


Rippletail's Loyalty

by DuplexBeGreat



Series: Slatefur Trilogy [2]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Book Series: A Vision of Shadows, Gen, River of Fire, Tigerheart's Shadow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuplexBeGreat/pseuds/DuplexBeGreat
Summary: In the moons since they left ShadowClan behind, Rippletail and Slatefur have each grown to doubt the wisdom of their choices, each of them haunted by the mistakes they made. As their paths draw together again, giving them both the opportunity to return to the lake and their Clan, the two cats must decide if they can truly overcome their past sins in order to forge a new future. A sequel to Slatefur's Loyalty, set during Tigerheart's Shadow and River of Fire, featuring two of the most insignificant background characters in the series.





	Rippletail's Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> What does one do when the background character they chose to write a story about is retconned into a completely different situation by the release of the next book? Why, one writes another, longer story to fix the continuity error, of course. Did you really expect me to do anything else?
> 
> And yes, it's still all posted as a single document. Take me straight to court.

**Chapter 1**

 

Rippletail let out a large yawn as he stretched, blinking away the lingering sleepiness in his eyes. Around him his companions were beginning to do the same, flexing their claws and shaking out their pelts as they stepped out of their nests, scraped together out of bits of leaves and bracken on the cold, hard floor. Moonlight streamed into the den through the large open space in the wall, illuminating the other three cats and the rows upon rows of Twoleg bundles.

It had been more than two moons since the white tom had lived in ShadowClan, but he still felt a flicker of surprise every time he awoke inside of a Twoleg den instead of the camp in the pine forest. Instead of the comforting darkness of a bramble thicket, he and the other cats were sheltered among the strange brown lumps that the Twolegs had left behind. Gone were the many other warriors that he had shared a den with—the only other cats here were his littermates, Cloverfoot and Berryheart, as well as Berryheart’s mate, Sparrowtail.

Even the way that they hunted had changed. When Berryheart and Sparrowtail had first found the abandoned den, they’d lived mainly off of the mice hiding within its walls. But after Berryheart’s littermates had arrived, it had become clear that there wasn’t enough prey inside the den to sustain four cats. They’d had to hunt in the surrounding hills—and they’d found it nearly impossible. Prey was far scarcer than they’d imagined, thanks to the web of Thunderpaths criss-crossing the area. The constant rumble of monsters had scared off most of the rabbits and mice that might otherwise have been living here—or so they thought at first. It had been Cloverfoot who realized, not long after she and Rippletail had reached the den, that the prey was far more abundant at night, when there weren’t nearly as many monsters around. As ShadowClan cats, they were no strangers to night hunting. It hadn’t been too difficult to learn to sleep away most of the day, hunting only when darkness fell.

Cloverfoot padded towards the den’s entrance, her tail raised. “Let’s split into pairs again. That seemed to work well the last few nights.”

Rippletail glanced at the other cats, noting how they had all accepted the tabby she-cat’s idea immediately. Though no cat had said anything about it, everyone seemed to be aware that Cloverfoot was the natural leader of their group. She hadn’t asserted herself over the rest of them at all, but she was confident and insightful, and always seemed to know what to do.

Cloverfoot went on as the others moved to join her. “Sparrowtail, would you mind hunting with me? We can try over on the other side of the Thunderpath. Rippletail, Berryheart, you two should hunt closer to the den.”

Sparrowtail glanced warmly towards Berryheart. “That sounds good to me. We can let these two slow slugs get the easier catch.” He wasn’t entirely joking, Rippletail knew. Berryheart had grown noticeably larger over the last half-moon. It wouldn’t be long before she kitted. It made sense to give her a less exhausting task.

Berryheart’s eyes flashed with humor. “Slow slug yourself!”

Rippletail joined in. “We’ll see how much prey you two manage to catch with Thunderpath-scent all over you!”

Cloverfoot purred and started out of the den. Sparrowtail followed her, throwing one last loving glance at his mate as he did so.

Rippletail looked over at Berryheart. “Are you ready to go?”

The black-and-white she-cat blinked slowly, seeming a bit weary even though she had just slept. “I… I think I need a moment first.”

“Alright,” Rippletail said. He sat down and began to wash, firmly grooming the bits of twig out of his long white pelt. But before he could finish, his sister’s mew sounded again.

“Rippletail,” she said, her voice flickering with an odd hesitation, “Let’s go.”

He glanced up. “Already? Are you sure you feel fine? Because if not—”

“No, no, not hunting.” She shook her head. “I just think we should go outside. Maybe I need some fresh air.”

He looked at her carefully. Her eyes were their usual deep blue, without any of the clouding that would indicate illness. “Okay,” he said, cautiously. “But if you don’t feel well, you need to tell me. Sparrowtail would never forgive me if I let you hunt while you were ill.”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice returning to its usual tone. “Something just tells me we should go outside right now.” She walked towards the den’s entrance, her tail swishing. Rippletail followed alongside her.

The night was clear, with hardly any clouds visible. The moon, though not yet completely full, was more than bright enough for the cats to make out the nearby hillside. With a twinge of sadness, Rippletail realized that in a few nights it would be time for the full-moon Gathering back at the lake. _At least, it will be_ , he thought guiltily, _if the Clans haven’t been completely destroyed by the rogues by now_.

He knew that wasn’t very likely. The last he and Cloverfoot had seen before they left the lake, the Clans had just reclaimed RiverClan’s territory, and the Kin had been heavily outnumbered. _But still_ , he wondered, _were we wrong to leave them behind? The Clans will need every warrior they can get to defeat Darktail_. He pushed the thought away. It wouldn’t be good for him to dwell on what might have happened. He and Cloverfoot had found Berryheart, and soon she would have kits. He couldn’t be unhappy with that.

Ahead, Berryheart had reached the slope that led down the hill to the nearby Thunderpath. She was standing near the edge, gazing down into the valley. Rippletail joined her, then followed her gaze. Her eyes were fixed on the large Twoleg wall that stood beside the Thunderpath. Though all they could see of the gray stone from this side was blank, Rippletail knew that the other side of the wall had been marked in bright colors, the shapes resembling the tops of several enormous Twoleg dens as they reached into the sky. Above them was an orange circle that looked something like the sun. None of the cats had been unable to understand the purpose of the marks in the whole time that they’d lived here, but that was hardly surprising. Nothing Twolegs did ever made sense.

“What’s the matter?” Rippletail asked.

Berryheart’s gaze didn’t move. “We should go down there.”

Rippletail flicked his tail toward the wall. “Down there? To the wall?”

“Yes.” Without waiting for a response, the she-cat started off down the hill towards the Thunderpath. Rippletail shrugged, then followed.

By the time the two cats had reached the foot of the hill, where the wall stood, Berryheart was gasping for breath, her flanks heaving. She paused, then sat down on the grass.

Rippletail flicked his tail, annoyed. “I told you to _tell_ me if you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “I just need to rest for a moment.”

Rippletail sighed. “There’s a dip in the ground right next to the wall. Let’s get over there. We can use it as a nest while you get your breath back.”

Blinking obligingly, the she-cat rose to her paws, then stiffly walked over to the small hollow. Settling down into it, she tucked her tail over her paws and rested her head on the grass. Rippletail followed and sat down beside his sister, but kept his ears pricked and his eyes wide open. There hadn’t been many foxes in these hills, but monsters or Twolegs could always show up when least expected.

Not much time had gone by before, suddenly, the scent of another cat crept into Rippletail’s nose. He stiffened. _Not one of the others—a rogue, or a loner_. There was a faint hint of a Twolegplace mixed with the cat’s own scent. Was it a kittypet? Would a kittypet have strayed this far from its Twolegs? His pelt pricking, the white tom got to his paws, ready to defend Berryheart, if it came to that.

The other cat appeared around the end of the wall. It was a black, short-furred tom, far skinnier than any kittypet Rippletail had ever seen—skinnier than most rogues, as well. Though his pelt was well-groomed and he didn’t seem to be starving, there was something about him that gave Rippletail an uneasy feeling. It was as if this cat was missing something.

The tom strode towards them with an uncanny confidence, as if he already knew them, and Rippletail realized what was strange about him. The tom’s wide yellow eyes had a faraway look, like he was seeing something that wasn’t there.

His hackles lifting as the stranger approached, Rippletail called “Hold it!” He raised his tail. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“You’re here,” the black tom said slowly. It was as if he hadn’t heard Rippletail at all. “Two of you. Are there more of you?”

Berryheart hissed at Rippletail’s side. “What makes you think that’s any of your business?” The queen’s fur was bushed out, and her ears were laid back.

“You don’t have to stay here,” the tom said, his voice clear. “I can take you to my friends.”

Rippletail glanced over at Berryheart. Her gaze met his, and it was clear she was just as confused as he was. He swung his muzzle back over to face the mysterious tom, ready to tell him they weren’t going anywhere with him, when another cat stepped out from behind the Twoleg wall, a large, dark brown tabby tom with powerful shoulders.

The newcomer’s amber eyes widened as he saw the cats sitting in the grassy dip. “Rippletail?” His mew was strong and familiar, and the white tom realized with a shock who it was.

“Tigerheart?” Rippletail’s mew nearly broke as he stared at the unmistakable well-muscled pelt of the ShadowClan deputy. He turned to face Berryheart again. Her eyes gleamed with excitement at seeing one of their former Clanmates as well. Suddenly Rippletail stiffened. _Why is Tigerheart here? Was ShadowClan driven away from the lake?_ A hot wave of fear swept over his fur. _Is this our fault?_

Another cat emerged beside Tigerheart, a pale gray she-cat with bright green eyes. “Is that Rippletail?” she asked, her tail twitching. With a start, Rippletail recognized her as Dovewing, a ThunderClan warrior. _What in StarClan is_ she _doing here?_

Tigerheart stepped closer, as if he couldn’t believe who he was seeing. Rippletail held his ground, cautiously watching as the ShadowClan deputy’s gaze swept over Berryheart.

Suddenly Tigerheart swung his muzzle so that he was staring straight at Rippletail. The white tom froze. There was no warmth in his former Clanmate’s gaze. The dark tabby tom opened his jaws, his voice coming out harsh and accusatory. “Are you… rogues now?”

“Rogues? No!” Rippletail cried, shocked and hurt at the question. “Is that what ShadowClan thinks?”

“Our Clanmates think you’re dead,” Tigerheart said, his voice still hard with hostility. “Why have you let them grieve for so long? You are Snowbird and Scorchfur’s kits. Can you imagine their pain?” He glared back and forth at the both of them.

Rippletail winced at the mention of his parents. He _did_ miss both of them, and he was certain his littermates did as well. But, for some reason, none of them had ever brought the subject up. It was as if none of them wanted to admit that they’d left their parents behind.

Berryheart pressed against his flank. “They still have Yarrowleaf, don’t they?” Her mew was desperate. Rippletail knew that she had watched Darktail drown their other sibling from Yarrowleaf’s litter—Beenose—on the day that she had escaped from the Kin. It wasn’t something she liked to discuss.

Tigerheart sniffed. “We think she went with the rogues after the battle with Darktail.”

His pelt suddenly chilled by the night air, Rippletail felt despair sink into his stomach. A horrible feeling of guilt pricked every hair on his pelt. _All of us abandoned them. They’ve lost every single one of their kits now—two dead, and four deserted._ And he suspected he knew why Yarrowleaf had stayed with the rogues. She’d been growing very close to a dark brown tom named Nettle. Rippletail had never liked him.

_How could we all have been so fox-hearted?_

“We thought she’d returned to the Clan!” Berryheart said despondently.

“Like _you_ did?” Tigerheart snarled.

Placing himself between his sister and the other cats, Rippletail fixed Tigerheart in his gaze. “We meant to, eventually, but—” he mewed defensively.

“You _betrayed_ your Clan!” the dark tabby growled.

Dovewing brushed her pelt against the ShadowClan warrior, her gaze soft. “Be gentle. We don’t know what they’ve suffered.”

Tigerheart blinked, then lowered his head. “I’m sorry. You’re not responsible for your sister’s decision. But ShadowClan has lost so many. Mistcloud, Lioneye and Spikefur…”

Rippletail stared at the ground, unable to face his former Clanmate. Based on what Berryheart had said, he had a pretty good guess of what had happened to Mistcloud and Lioneye—and Lioneye's brother, Birchbark—when they had tried to leave the Kin. And Spikefur had been one of Darktail’s most loyal supporters among the Clan cats—no mystery there.

“Please tell me Sparrowtail’s with you, at least.”

Letting out a breath, Rippletail flicked his tail excitedly as he raised his muzzle towards Tigerheart again. “Sparrowtail and Cloverfoot are with us!”

“They are?”

“We’ve been living up there,” the white tom said, nodding up the hill towards their den. “In an abandoned Twoleg nest.”

“Are Sparrowtail and Cloverfoot there now?” Tigerheart asked eagerly.

“They’re hunting. We were getting ready to go out ourselves when this cat found us,” Rippletail said, indicating the skinny black tom with his muzzle. Then he frowned. Who _was_ this tom, and why was he travelling with a ThunderClan warrior and the ShadowClan deputy?

Then he noticed the fourth cat standing beside Tigerheart and the others—a smaller, ginger-and-white tom. He was young, about apprentice age, and wasn’t any Clan cat Rippletail had ever seen.

“Are these warriors too?” asked the ginger tom, moonlight shining in his eyes. He looked as though he was meeting one of the legendary cats of LionClan.

“They were Clanmates once,” Tigerheart said to the young cat.

Rippletail bristled. _Once?_ Then he shook the thought away. Tigerheart hadn’t been unfair. It was true, Rippletail reflected sadly, that he and his companions hadn’t been part of ShadowClan for many moons. “Sparrowtail is the father of Berryheart’s kits,” he informed the new arrivals.

“When are they due?” Dovewing asked, her green eyes gazing softly at Berryheart where she lay in the hollow.

“Soon,” said Berryheart, shifting her paws nervously.

Rippletail decided it was finally time to broach the subject of the strange cats. “What are you doing here?” he asked Tigerheart. “Why are you travelling with _them_?”

The young ginger tom puffed out his chest proudly. “I’m going to be a warrior.” He flicked his tail at the skinny black tom. “And Spire is going to be a medicine cat.”

They definitely weren’t Clan cats. Rippletail blinked at them uncertainly, noticing how the black tom—Spire—seemed unable to keep his eyes focused on any one thing for more than a moment. _This weird loner is going to be a medicine cat?_

“It’s a long story,” Tigerheart sighed. “Too long to tell here.”

Suddenly two more scents flooded towards them from the hill. Rippletail’s whiskers twitched as he realized the other half of their group had returned.

“Rippletail? Berryheart?” Cloverfoot called, her mew crisp in the night air. “Who’s with you?”

Another pelt flashed in the moonlight as Sparrowtail came into view as well. He was carrying a plump rabbit. The two cats raced over to the wall, their gray tabby and brown tabby pelts stopping right beside each other. “What are you doing here?” Sparrowtail said with disbelief, dropping his rabbit at the sight of Tigerheart. Then he noticed the loners. “Who are you?”

Rippletail noticed that Berryheart’s eyes were misting. The queen was clearly fatigued, and probably shouldn’t have been hunting tonight anyway. “Let’s have this conversation somewhere warmer,” he said, fluffing out his pelt and motioning with his tail towards the Twoleg den. Berryheart blinked at him gratefully, then inclined her head as Sparrowtail came up to nuzzle her.

“Let’s go back to our den,” Cloverfoot agreed.

Tigerheart and Dovewing glanced at each other, as if they were thinking the same thing. “The kits. They’ll be worried about us,” whispered the ThunderClan she-cat.

Rippletail stared at them, surprise blossoming in his mind. _Did she just say—?_

“Ant and Cinnamon will want to know that Spire’s okay,” the young tom said impatiently.

_Who?_ Rippletail thought.

Cloverfoot had the same idea. “Ant and Cinnamon?” she asked.

“Kits?” chimed in Berryheart.

Stepping forward, Rippletail tried to sound light-hearted about the situation. “I guess you _do_ have quite a story to tell.”

“The past is irrelevant,” said Spire, staring straight at him with a sudden intensity. “Now that we’ve found you, you must come with us.”

Rippletail frowned. “Where to?”

“To the Clans, of course.”

Rippletail glanced over at Sparrowtail, alarm flickering in both of their eyes.

“We’ve been worried about going home.” Rippletail sagged with relief as he heard Cloverfoot’s mew. His sister would do a much better job explaining things than he could.

“We joined the rogues. We fought the Clans,” the former ShadowClan warrior went on, her green eyes gazing steadily at Tigerheart. “We weren’t sure ShadowClan would have us back. That’s why we’ve stayed away.”

Rippletail lowered his muzzle again, unwilling to look at Cloverfoot. She knew what he hadn’t told any of the others. She knew his terrible secret about what had happened when they had fought alongside the Kin, in the battle to take RiverClan’s territory.

_It’s not just about whether they forgive us_ , he remembered himself saying on the day that they had left the lake. _I’m not sure that we can forgive ourselves. I… I lost control, during the first battle. I think I might have killed Heronwing._ The RiverClan tom’s motionless body was permanently seared into his mind, his dark gray-and-black pelt spattered with blood as he lay beside the Thunderpath that marked the boundary between ShadowClan and RiverClan land. Rippletail had gazed down at the fallen warrior, noticing his own bloodstained white fur and realizing that his muscles were heaving as if from some great effort. _Did I just do that?_ he had thought with horror. He didn’t remember striking the killing blow. The battle had been a blur of fur and claws, a whirling, chaotic mess that he couldn’t recall anything of.

“Would you join the rogues again?” came Tigerheart’s mew, dragging Rippletail back to the present.

Cloverfoot faltered. Rippletail realized with a shock that his sister, always so courageous and certain, didn’t know if she could give an honest answer to the ShadowClan deputy’s question. Sparrowtail pressed against Berryheart, his tail wrapping over her back protectively.

“Never,” Rippletail was surprised to find himself saying, his meow unwavering. _What am I doing?_ he thought frantically.

_I’m speaking the truth_ , he realized firmly. _I’ve done worse than any of them. It’s up to me to change our path back to what it should have been—to that of a ShadowClan warrior._ “We made a terrible decision. We didn’t realize that Darktail was a liar and a bully. We truly thought he could make ShadowClan safer. We were wrong. And we will spend our lives making it up to ShadowClan, if they agree to take us back.”

Tigerheart narrowed his eyes. “They may not have much choice. We lost so many warriors to the rogues that we didn’t have enough to patrol our territory. We gave some of it to SkyClan. The remaining cats lost faith in Rowanstar, and I… I left the Clan to give him a chance to be leader.”

Briefly wondering if he should ask what in the name of StarClan _SkyClan_ was, Rippletail decided to focus on what was more important. “But you’re his son!” he exclaimed. “You were always Rowanstar’s strongest ally.”

“I was causing trouble for the Clan just by being there,” Tigerheart said, sadness in his voice. “My Clanmates were looking to me for orders. It undermined Rowanstar’s leadership. I thought Rowanstar had more chance of keeping the Clan together without me. And Dovewing… was expecting my kits. We traveled far, to a territory with many, many Twolegs, so she could give birth in a place where no cats could judge us.”

Rippletail glanced at the others, their gazes meeting his own with the same feeling of surprise mingled with a kind of unfazed acceptance. _So he did have kits with her_ , he thought. _But then, every cat in the Clan knew he had feelings for her. Is it really that surprising?_

“Where is your camp?” Sparrowtail mewed. “If you have kits, we should go to them.”

The young ginger tom looked at him, hope flicking across his eyes. “Are they coming back to the Clans with us?”

Tigerheart looked at them. “Are you?”

Rippletail turned to each of his companions in turn, registering slightly different feelings in each of their eyes: Berryheart’s reserved hope that her kits might grow up in a Clan after all, Sparrowtail’s determination to do what was best for his mate, Cloverfoot’s steadfast dedication to them all.

He remembered what Berryheart had said when he and Cloverfoot had finally found her and Sparrowtail, hiding out in the abandoned Twoleg nest. _That’s the trouble, Rippletail. I’m not alright. None of us are. But we can be. StarClan will guide us. We just… we can’t give up. As long as we don’t give up… sooner or later… StarClan will guide us all home._ He remembered the odd feeling she’d had, that they had to leave the Twoleg nest and come down here to the stone wall.

_Was that it?_ Rippletail wondered, hope flickering into his belly. _Was that StarClan telling us that we had to wait here, so that Tigerheart could find us?_

He lifted his muzzle, staring resolutely into Tigerheart’s eyes. “We’re ready to go home,” he meowed.

 

 

 

**Chapter 2**

 

“Spiresight!” Rippletail yowled, lifting his muzzle to the darkening evening sky.

Beside him, Cloverfoot did the same, her mew clear and grateful. “Spiresight!”

The forest clearing filled with their chanting as they joined in with the rest of the patrol, all of the cats calling out the same thing. “Spiresight! Spiresight!”

Briefly, Rippletail lowered his gaze, sneaking a glance at each of the other cats’ expressions. Some of them carried more sadness than others—particularly the young ginger tom, Blaze, who Rippletail had learned had been raised by Spiresight since he was a kit. But there was acceptance mixed with their grief, and understanding. Spiresight’s death, falling off a dangerous Twoleg bridge into the river below to save Pouncekit from the same fate, had been sudden and horrifying. But they’d all had time to come to terms with it by now, and to understand, as Tigerheart had said, that the skinny black tom would have trusted them to find their way back to the lake by following the path he’d set for them. By continuing on their journey, they were honoring the strange cat’s memory.

An unpleasant, guilty thought tugged at Rippletail as he remembered standing beside Cloverfoot at the base of the raised bridge, staring up at Spiresight with horror as the black tom lost his footing on the bridge’s peak. He pushed the memory away. This wasn’t the time for that.

It was Tigerheart—by now, Rippletail mused, effectively the leader of their patrol, not that any cat had said so—who had suggested that they give the fallen tom a warrior name. He’d died like a warrior, saving others, and if the other cats made it back to the lake—back to ShadowClan—at all, it would be because of him. So the skinny city cat, once known as Spire, had become Spiresight, a warrior of ShadowClan.

The cats’ chants died down, and the cool air around them seemed to still. After a moment, the other tom from the city, Ant, broke the silence. “Should we hunt now?” His black-and-brown pelt rippled as he looked around at the nearby bushes. Rippletail’s whiskers twitched. He could smell prey nearby as well.

“Yes,” said Tigerheart. The other cats waited apprehensively for him to divide them up into hunting patrols.

Blaze blinked slowly at him. “I’m staying here.” The young tom’s mew had a solemnity to it that Rippletail hadn’t heard before. “Sparrowtail said you honor fallen warriors by sitting vigil. I want to sit vigil for Spiresight.”

Tigerheart dipped his head. “Once the kits have eaten and have warm nests to sleep in, I will sit vigil with you.”

Again guilt pricked at Rippletail’s thoughts. _Should I sit vigil for him as well? Or would the others think I was intruding? I only met him less than a quarter moon ago._

A sudden grunt of pain from one of the other cats jerked him back out of his mind. Turning towards the source, he saw Berryheart stagger, landing on her belly in the soft grass of the clearing.

Rippletail rushed to his sister’s side, dimly aware of Cloverfoot and Sparrowtail doing the same thing. But it was Dovewing who spoke first, her green eyes wide with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“The kits!” Berryheart groaned. “I think they’re coming.”

“Now?” Rippletail gasped. _But we’re nowhere near the lake!_

Sparrowtail bent to lap his mate’s head with soft strokes of his tongue. “Don’t worry, Berryheart,” he said soothingly. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll do anything you need.”

Dovewing’s head snapped around. “Right. She’ll need a nest, and plenty of water.” She flicked her tail at Cloverfoot. “Can you start putting together a nest for her in one of the bushes?”

The gray tabby she-cat nodded her head.

“Let me help,” said Sparrowtail, shifting his paws. “I don’t want to get in the way of the kitting, but I need to do something.”

Dovewing blinked at him, as if surprised by his understanding. Then she nodded. “Okay. Make absolutely sure there isn’t a single thorn in there. We can’t risk the kits getting infected.”

The brown tabby tom flicked his tail in acknowledgement, then turned to Cloverfoot. Together they padded off into the undergrowth.

Cinnamon, the city she-cat, stepped forward. “I should help with the delivery. I have more experience helping queens than the rest of you. No offense,” she added with a hasty glance at Dovewing.

The pale gray she-cat’s fur rippled as a cool breeze passed over the clearing. “No, you’re right. I’m no medicine cat. I’d be happy to help, though.”

Cinnamon dipped her head. “Of course.”

Rippletail turned his muzzle towards the brown tabby she-cat. “What should we do?” he asked, indicating himself and Ant with his tail.

“Moss,” Cinnamon declared, looking over at the small stream that flowed through one end of the clearing. “Berryheart will need plenty of water.”

Rippletail nodded. Noticing that Ant was already heading towards the clearing’s edge, he made to follow him.

Another meow from Cinnamon sounded behind him. “And see if you can bring back a few sturdy sticks, too! Berryheart can bite on them to help with the pain.”

  

 

Darkness fell quickly as the two toms hurried back and forth between the forest, the stream, and Berryheart’s den, rapidly bringing back as much moss as they could find. The queen’s cries had continued all through the night. This wasn’t her first litter, Rippletail remembered with a pang of sadness. She’d had kits two leaf-falls ago, but nearly the entire litter had died the following leaf-bare.

_And the only survivor was Needletail_ , Rippletail thought grimly. He and Cloverfoot had seen the silver she-cat being hauled away by Darktail’s rogues on the night they had left the RiverClan camp. Though he couldn’t be sure what had happened to her, it wasn’t hard to imagine what Darktail was going to do. When they’d told Berryheart and Sparrowtail, the two had sadly agreed: It was likely their daughter was dead. Berryheart’s new kits were going to grow up without any older siblings.

_At least they’ll have us_ , the white tom reflected. _Me and Cloverfoot._ If nothing else, the kits would have some of their kin around to help take care of them.

A patch of dark tabby fur flashed at the edge of Rippletail’s vision. He turned, realizing that Tigerheart had been sitting perfectly still on the edge of the clearing for quite some time, a good distance away from Berryheart’s den. Beside him was Blaze, his ginger-and-white fur fluffed up against the cold night air.

For a moment Rippletail felt resentment towards Tigerheart for not helping with Berryheart’s kitting. But it faded quickly. The rest of them had everything well under control, and it was good that someone was keeping Blaze company. _He shouldn’t be alone in his grief._

Suddenly Rippletail realized he couldn’t hear Berryheart groaning anymore. Instead, a series of small, high-pitched mews were emanating from the makeshift nursery.

Rippletail exchanged a look with Ant. _The kits! They’re here!_ The two of them hurried towards the bush, and cautiously ducked inside.

Aside from Tigerheart and Blaze, still sitting vigil out in the clearing, they were the last cats to arrive. The small den was overcrowded with pelts and tails, and Rippletail found himself having to shove Dovewing to the side just to get through.

He stopped at once as he caught sight of Berryheart. The queen lay on her side in the nest that Sparrowtail and Cloverfoot had assembled for her, clearly exhausted. Yet there was nothing in her eyes except pure love as she softly lapped at the three tiny bundles curled against her belly, no longer as swollen as it had been for the past moon. Sparrowtail was standing over her with the same expression on his face, not taking his gaze away from his mate and kits for a moment.

“Congratulations,” Rippletail whispered, suddenly realizing how proud he was of his sister for bringing the tiny, mewling creatures into the world. He felt he should say something more, but couldn’t think of anything fitting.

Ant threw him an amused glance, then dipped his head towards Sparrowtail, meowing politely, “Have you named them yet?”

“No,” Sparrowtail purred, “But we’re working on it.”

“There are two toms and a she-kit,” Dovewing said briskly.

Rippletail stiffened. _Just like her first litter._ He glanced around. Cloverfoot had the same tense expression on her face, and was staring straight at Dovewing. But the ThunderClan warrior had already turned back to the kits, apparently unaware that she’d said anything unpleasant. Rippletail realized with a sigh of relief that Sparrowtail and Berryheart hadn’t seemed to hear her words at all—or if they had, they didn’t care. Both of them were now licking the kits gently as if nothing in the world could trouble them.

A moment passed, and then Cinnamon raised her muzzle. “Alright, all of you, out. The kits need room to breathe.” Rippletail turned towards the den’s entrance obligingly, following Ant as the small tom ducked back out underneath the branches. Cloverfoot and Dovewing followed, the gray ThunderClan she-cat tugging her kits along with her tail.

Though early dawn light had begun to flicker from off in the distance, the air was still chilly outside. The kits didn’t seem to mind, happily running off towards a clump of taller grass, where Pouncekit proceeded to burrow deep inside the stems, her littermates poking their paws in to try and tag her.

As Dovewing watched her kits from a distance, her gaze warm, Rippletail beckoned to Cloverfoot with his tail. “I need to talk to you alone,” he mewed softly, jerking his muzzle towards a clump of ferns near the clearing’s edge.

Cloverfoot nodded and followed him, squeezing behind the ferns so that they were closed off from the other cats. She sat back on her haunches, gazing at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

For a moment, Rippletail couldn’t speak. But then the words started tumbling out of him, one after another. “It was my fault! Spiresight would be alive right now if I had just been patient! Blaze has lost his mentor and we’ve all lost our guide and now we’re camped here with newborn kits and don’t have any idea how to get back to the lake, all because of me!”

Compassion brimmed in his sister’s eyes. “What are you talking about? Spiresight’s death wasn’t something any cat could have—”

“I was a mouse-brain!” Rippletail lashed his tail, angry with himself. “I ran across that bridge without even a moment of hesitation! Any cat could have seen it was dangerous, that there was something wrong with the way the Twolegs were behaving, but I took off before any of you could stop me, and Spiresight died because of it!”

Cloverfoot lifted her tail, resting it gently on his back. “You’re being mouse-brained _now_. It wasn’t your idea to cross the bridge, it was Spiresight’s, and he knew exactly what risks he was taking. We _all_ agreed to follow him. And I was only a tail-length behind you. If you were impatient, so was I. We both want to get back to the lake as soon as possible. No one would have blamed you for that.”

“I still feel like I should be sitting vigil for him,” Rippletail whispered.

The gray tabby she-cat purred. “That’s natural, isn’t it? We all lost a brave cat with the heart of a true warrior. But it’s not your duty to honor someone you barely knew. Let Blaze and Tigerheart do that,” she said, jerking her muzzle towards the other side of the clearing. Rippletail noticed that Tigerheart seemed to have wandered off, probably in search of prey, while Blaze remained still as a stone, his ginger fur beginning to gleam as the first rays of light struck it.

He turned back to Cloverfoot. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I feel like I should blame myself more, after… after what happened with Heronwing,” he admitted, guilt pricking at his pelt once more.

His sister stared at him intensely, her tail straight up in the air behind her. “Rippletail. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Heronwing. That wasn’t your fault. It was Darktail and his rogues who started that battle.”

“But I’m the one who killed him,” Rippletail said softly, lowering his gaze. “I can’t pretend I didn’t. And we supported Darktail all the way through. We didn’t even try to stop him from attacking.”

“Then don’t pretend,” Cloverfoot said firmly. “You know the best way to make up for everything we did to hurt the Clans is to fix our mistakes. We have to carry on as ShadowClan warriors so that all of Darktail’s terrible actions are lost to the past.”

Rippletail paused. “Like Berryheart,” he said. “Even after everything she went through before… her other kits, and now Needletail… she can still make a new future for herself. Her and Sparrowtail both.”

“Exactly,” his sister purred. “Like Berryheart and Sparrowtail. Their kits are the future of our Clan.” She started to slip back out from behind the ferns, turning towards the nursery again. “Let’s go see if they’ve named them yet.”

Rippletail followed her, his spirits lifting. They trotted back to the bush where Berryheart was nested, then crawled underneath the branches. Dovewing slipped in after them.

Cinnamon seemed slightly exasperated at their return, but Sparrowtail looked delighted. “We’ve decided,” he announced, indicating the first kit with his tail. It was a black tom, his tiny paws moving slightly as he suckled at Berryheart’s belly. “This is Hollowkit.”

Berryheart lifted her head sleepily, then brushed the second kit, a tabby she-kit, with her paw. “And this little one is Sunkit.”

Rippletail nodded approvingly, noting how the small kit’s white belly and paws seemed as bright as the sun compared to her brown tabby back.

“And this one,” Berryheart said, her voice catching slightly as she gazed at the third kit, “Will be called Spirekit.”

Beside her, Cinnamon gasped, a quiver running through her fur.

“Are you sure?” Cloverfoot asked. “That’s not a normal Clan name.”

Sparrowtail glanced down at his mate, then back to the assembled cats. “We’re sure,” he declared.

“It’s only fitting,” Berryheart said. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far without Spiresight. Even if he hunts with StarClan now, he deserves to be remembered among the living Clans as well.”

The kit—Spirekit—was a black-and-white tom, the only one of his litter who shared his mother’s exact pelt color. Staring down at the kit and his littermates, Rippletail felt himself relax for the first time that night. Whether he was to blame for Spiresight’s death or not, he knew, there was no better way than to move on from it than by helping to ensure this little kit, named in the strange black tom’s honor, grew up to serve his Clan and his kin with pride.

Dovewing spun back to the entrance. “I’m going to go tell Blaze!” she called as she left.

Cinnamon blinked. “Ant, too!” she yowled after the gray she-cat. “He’ll want to know as well.” Dovewing’s tail swished in acknowledgement.

There was a moment in which no cat spoke, the only sound in the den that of Berryheart and Sparrowtail’s contented purring. Finally Cloverfoot broke the silence.

“You’ve both done so well,” she said, dipping her head to the two mates. “Having kits this far from the Clans, in unfamiliar territory. We’re proud to call you our kin.”

Sparrowtail glanced at her. “Thank you. Thank you both,” he added, nodding briefly at Rippletail, “For everything. I don’t think it all would have gone this well without your help.”

“That’s taking it a bit far,” Rippletail said hastily, his pelt growing hot. “It was Cinnamon who helped deliver the kits…”

Cinnamon purred. “I didn’t do that much, really. I just poked around a bit, and told Berryheart when to push. It was the two of you who hunted for her and kept her safe for the last two moons.”

“She’s right,” Berryheart mewed, gratitude shimmering in her bright blue eyes as she gazed up at her littermates. “I’m incredibly fortunate to have had you with me. It’s because of all of you that we have our kits—and it will be because of you that we bring them home to ShadowClan someday.”

Purring, Rippletail dipped his head to touch muzzles with his sister, Cloverfoot joining in beside him. For the moment, ShadowClan was a dream. Seeing these kits had brought him more happiness than he had thought possible since leaving the lake.

 

 

 

**Chapter 3**

 

The sun had nearly reached the peak of its climb, but the day showed no signs of warming much. Leaf-fall was nearly over, and the first cold winds of leaf-bare were already swirling through the small valley. Prey had begun to grow scarce, though it hadn’t vanished completely. From his hiding place inside a hawthorn bush, Slatefur could see a good-sized squirrel sitting up on its hind paws on a nearby rock.

The gray tom had almost started to lose track of how long it had been since he had left ShadowClan and the lake behind. Three moons, he suspected, but it might very nearly be four. Without Gatherings to mark the passing of time, he wasn’t entirely sure how many times the moon had grown full while he’d been away.

He certainly hadn’t expected to be gone this long when he had first departed from the lake. There was no special quest for him to go on. Slatefur had just one goal in mind: Find his littermates, Birchbark and Lioneye, and convince them to return to ShadowClan. He didn’t know where they’d gone, but he was determined to find out. Beginning with the area just beyond ThunderClan’s territory, he’d searched every area near the lake he could think of—and when that yielded no results, he’d gone farther. He’d trekked across moors, forests, and valleys; he’d gotten his paws wet in more streams than he could count; and he’d slept in a different place each night. Every loner or kittypet that he came across, he’d spoken to, asking if they’d seen three cats travelling together: A beige tom, a yellow she-cat, and a spiky-furred gray she-cat—Birchbark’s former mentor, Mistcloud, who had left the Kin along with him. But there had been no sign of them.

He had even, at one point, tasted kittypet food, in one of the many Twolegplaces he’d investigated. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but the cats living in that particular Twoleg den had seemed like they might be more helpful if he spent a little time with them. It had been a pointless attempt; those kittypets didn’t know any more about his littermates than any of the ones before them had.

Having tried the land beyond ThunderClan and ShadowClan’s hunting grounds—the areas nearest to ShadowClan territory, the last place anyone had seen his littermates—Slatefur had now moved on to the valley on the other side of WindClan’s moor. The land was dotted with birch trees, and a small pond could be seen not too far off, before the valley gave way to a Twolegplace off in the distance.

Up on the rock, the squirrel stiffened, its fur pricking with alarm. Slatefur tensed his leg muscles eagerly—that had been part of his plan. He’d deliberately positioned himself so that the squirrel could catch a whiff of his scent. Then, when it ran for safety to the birch tree off to his left, he would dart out and intercept it.

Suddenly, the squirrel gave a small jolt and began to run _away_ from the bush where the sleek gray tom was hiding, clear in the opposite direction. Slatefur growled, realizing there was no way he would catch the small animal before it reached another tree. What had made it go the other way? Had the wind changed without his realizing it?

Then a gray tabby she-cat pounced from the bushes along the squirrel’s path, landing neatly on the squirrel and killing it with a bite to the neck. Startled, Slatefur didn’t even think to move as, from behind him, another cat—a white tom—padded out from the undergrowth, joining the first cat in the clearing. Slatefur realized the two of the must have planned this—the squirrel had fled not because it had picked up his own scent, but because the white tom had lunged at it from the bushes.

The she-cat grabbed the squirrel in her jaws, beginning to walk off with it. The tom followed her, his tail waving contentedly. Finally Slatefur shook himself out of his stupor.

“Hey! Flea-brains!” he yowled, leaping out of the bush and striding towards them. “That was my catch!”

At the sound of his voice, the two cats turned around, the white tom drawing his lips back in a snarl. But the tabby she-cat’s eyes lit up, and she dropped the squirrel. “Slatefur?” she gasped, happiness and surprise mingling in her voice.

Slatefur stopped in his tracks, shocked that he hadn’t recognized the other cats sooner. “Cloverfoot!” he exclaimed. “Rippletail!” He hurried forward, excitement sparking in his pelt like he hadn’t felt in moons. These were the last two cats he had seen before departing from the lake, and the ones who had made him realize how important it was that he find his littermates in the first place.

Cloverfoot purred. “It’s good to see you again, Slatefur.” She thrust her muzzle forward to touch his nose.

“I didn’t expect to run into you out here!” Slatefur said, turning to Rippletail to touch muzzles with him as well. Then he remembered that the two cats had also headed off to search for their kin, just as he had. “Did you find Berryheart?” he asked eagerly. “Or Sparrowtail?”

Rippletail’s blue eyes shone. “Yes, both of them,” he replied, pride unmistakable in his mew. “They’re both well. Berryheart has had another litter of kits.”

“That’s wonderful!” Slatefur felt his chest swell with happiness for his former Clanmates. “Is your camp near? I’d love to come say hello to all of them.”

The two littermates exchanged a brief glance. Then Cloverfoot raised her muzzle to speak again. “We don’t exactly have a camp, at the moment. We’ve been travelling. But you’re welcome to come see the kits, all the same.”

Slatefur frowned in confusion. “Travelling? With kits? How old are they?”

Rippletail shifted his paws uncomfortably. “Just over a moon.”

“ _One_ moon?” Slatefur gasped.

“It’s complicated,” Rippletail said defensively. “We had no other choice.”

Doubtful, Slatefur shifted his gaze back to Cloverfoot. She nodded slowly. “It’s best if we explain on the way back to the others. They’re counting on us for fresh-kill.”

Hesitantly, Slatefur nodded. Cloverfoot dipped her head to pick the squirrel back up, then padded off through the undergrowth, her tabby fur fading into the shadows. Rippletail followed her, and Slatefur trotted alongside the white tom, waiting for one of the others to explain what was going on.

Eventually Rippletail spoke up. “We found Berryheart and Sparrowtail living in an old Twoleg den, several days’ walk from here. We stayed with them for two moons.”

Slatefur nodded. He knew the two of them had reservations about returning to ShadowClan.

“Then, about a moon and a half ago,” Cloverfoot called from up ahead, “Tigerheart found us.”

“Tigerheart?” Slatefur exclaimed. “What was he doing that far from the Clans?”

Cloverfoot’s pelt pricked. “He had run away… with Dovewing. She had his kits.”

Slatefur’s eyes widened. “The ThunderClan warrior? She _had his—_ ”

“Yes, that’s what she just said,” Rippletail snorted. “No, you’re not the only one who was surprised by it. But are you really _that_ surprised? Every cat who knew Tigerheart knew that he never stopped thinking about Dovewing.”

Slatefur felt his fur ruffle with discomfort. “I never really knew him that well. I-I was still an apprentice when the rogues took over the Clan, and Tigerheart left…”

Rippletail looked at him for a moment, surprised. “Oh, you’re right. I had forgotten how young you were.”

Slatefur flicked the white tom’s ear amiably with his tail. “I’m not _that_ young!”

“Yes, you are,” Cloverfoot purred. “But you’re more mature than most. You proved that on the night we left the lake. That’s why Rippletail forgot.”

Basking in the she-cat’s praise for a moment, Slatefur almost forgot to ask his next question. “So? Tigerheart found you, and then…?”

“He was heading back to ShadowClan with Dovewing, their kits, and some cats he’d met in a large Twolegplace,” Cloverfoot said. “And we all agreed to join him. It’s long past time we were reunited with our Clanmates.”

Surprised, Slatefur glanced at Rippletail, trying to see if there was any hesitation in the other cat’s deep blue eyes. He remembered the white tom’s guilt-stricken admission, all those moons ago, that he had killed the RiverClan warrior Heronwing. _Does he really want to be part of the Clan again?_

If Rippletail had any doubts, he didn’t show them. “We had planned to make it back to the lake in just a few days, but Berryheart’s kits came sooner than expected,” he mewed. “We had to wait until they were old enough to travel before we could continue.”

“And _one moon_ is old enough?” Slatefur asked, unable to keep a hint of challenge out of his voice. “Are they even weaned yet?”

“They are,” Cloverfoot grunted, stepping around a patch of brambles. “But we didn’t have a choice, anyway. Tigerheart was badly injured last night. We’ve been hurrying back to the Clans so that the medicine cats can save him.”

“ _Save_ him?” Slatefur asked, horrified. “How badly was he injured?”

“An owl tried to snatch one of Berryheart’s kits,” the she-cat replied. “Tigerheart saved the kit, but the owl grabbed him instead, and… he fell.”

Slatefur shuddered, not wanting to imagine how high the dark tabby tom must have been when the owl dropped him. “Well, you’re only about a day from the lake. Hopefully he can hold on until you can get him back there. I wish you the best of luck.”

Both of the other cats stopped walking and turned to look at him. “Aren’t you coming with us?” Rippletail asked.

“No, of course not,” Slatefur said, surprised at the question. “I still haven’t found Birchbark and Lioneye. I’m sorry about Tigerheart, but I made a promise. I can’t go back until I have them with me.”

The two littermates exchanged a glance, but said nothing.

Slatefur lashed his tail impatiently. “What? You know this is important. Rebuilding ShadowClan will take _every_ warrior we can find. And they’re my littermates. I can’t leave them out.”

Finally Cloverfoot spoke. “Let’s keep going. Berryheart will be glad to see you.”

It wasn’t much longer before the three of them emerged from the undergrowth, blinking their eyes against the fierce sun, by now directly overhead. Slatefur realized they were right beside the pond he’d spotted from afar. Swathes of tall grass surrounded the water. Nearby, lying motionless in the grass, was a heap of dark tabby fur.

“Tigerheart!” Cloverfoot gasped, running towards the tom’s body and dropping her squirrel. “Is he dead?”

“No,” came a worried mew. Turning, Slatefur recognized Dovewing sitting next to her mate, her green eyes wide with anxiety. “But he’s weakening fast. We have to leave again as soon as the others—” She broke off as she saw Slatefur, her brow furrowing with confusion.

“This is Slatefur,” Cloverfoot explained to the ThunderClan queen. “He’s another one of our… lost Clanmates. Rippletail and I stumbled across him just now while hunting.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s good,” Dovewing said, blinking. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to focus, with…” She gestured helplessly at Tigerheart with her tail.

“It’s alright,” Slatefur said, dipping his head. “I know you must be worried. I don’t intend to stay long. I mostly came to see Berryheart and Sparrowtail, and their kits… though I’m sure yours are wonderful as well,” he finished lamely.

The pale gray she-cat jerked her muzzle towards a patch of grass closer to the pond. “I told them to go and play. It won’t do them any good to stare at their father like this.”

“Where did Berryheart go?” Rippletail asked.

“She took her kits a bit farther away,” Dovewing said, pointing with a forepaw. “They shouldn’t be too close to Tigerheart either.”

Silence rested between them all for a moment. Slatefur lifted his muzzle, preparing to awkwardly mention that he would like to go see Berryheart, when another two cats came crashing out of the undergrowth behind them, each carrying a mouse. Slatefur turned, recognizing Sparrowtail’s brown tabby pelt with a flash of apprehension. The other cat, a small black-and-brown tom, was unfamiliar to him.

Sparrowtail dropped his mouse as he let out an excited meow. “Slatefur!” Dashing forward, he touched his muzzle to the gray tom’s.

Slatefur felt his pelt grow hot. “It’s good to see you, Sparrowtail.” He stared at his paws, not willing to meet his former mentor’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Confused, the large tom stepped back, tilting his head. “Sorry? For what?”

“For everything I said,” Slatefur mewed softly. “The last time we saw each other, at the lake. I shouldn’t have called you a coward. You… you were doing what you thought was right. It wasn’t my place to judge that.”

Sparrowtail shook his head. “You weren’t wrong, Slatefur. I wasn’t willing to stand by my Clan when it needed me. We’ll be there again, soon, but… we should have gone back moons ago.”

“Still.” Slatefur raised his muzzle, gazing into the other tom’s clear blue eyes. “Before I left the lake, I… I fought Spikefur. I really _fought_ him. And he… he tried to kill me,” he whispered. “I’m done with him. For good. But even without a father I can be proud of… At least I had the best mentor I could have asked for.”

Sparrowtail purred. “And no cat could have wanted more from his apprentice.”

Slatefur closed his eyes, relieved that they’d made amends. When he opened them again, he realized the other tom who had been hunting with Sparrowtail was still sitting there beside them, warmth in his eyes. “And who’s this?” Slatefur asked.

“Ant,” Sparrowtail said. “He’s from the Twolegplace that Tigerheart and Dovewing stayed in. He’s a fine hunter.”

Ant flicked his tail in greeting. Slatefur dipped his head in return. The small tom gathered up both of the mice by their tails, then took them over to where Tigerheart lay.

“Well,” Slatefur said. “If you don’t mind, I was going to see Berryheart and your kits.”

Cloverfoot’s mew came from behind him. “Right. I think Berryheart will be very glad to see him. Don’t you agree, Sparrowtail?” Rippletail padded towards them as well, stopping by his sister’s side.

Slatefur’s brow furrowed. _Why is she talking about Berryheart so strangely?_ He turned back to Sparrowtail, noticing the tom’s gaze darkening. _What are they all hiding?_

He followed as the other three cats headed towards the patch of grass where Berryheart had made a nest for her kits. The black-and-white queen was laying on her side, a small black tom-kit tucked into her belly as his black-and-white brother and tabby sister wrestled atop their mother. At the sight of the other cats, all three kits scrambled out of the nest, eagerly hopping up and down around them.

“Sparrowtail! Sparrowtail, is Tigerheart going to be alright?”

“How much longer before we get to see the Clans?”

“Who’s this?” the black kit asked, tugging at Slatefur’s tail. “Is he our kin, too?”

Berryheart caught sight of Slatefur. “No, he’s not,” she murmured gently to the kit. “But he’s one of our Clanmates. Slatefur, it’s wonderful to see you,” she added. “I can’t thank you enough for telling Sparrowtail where to find me.”

Slatefur ducked his head, embarrassed. “It was nothing. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“You took a large risk, keeping my secret from Darktail,” the queen meowed. “These kits wouldn’t be here if not for your bravery.”

“It really wasn’t difficult,” the gray tom mewed, shifting his paws.

“Speaking of Darktail,” Cloverfoot cut in, “Slatefur’s been searching for his littermates, who left the Kin with Mistcloud before the battle with RiverClan. Berryheart,” she said, turning to the queen, “Could you tell Slatefur what you told the rest of us?”

Berryheart suddenly grew very still. “Sparrowtail,” she said softly. “Please take the kits to play somewhere else.”

Her mate nodded solemnly, gathering up his kits with a scoop of his tail and ushering them away.

Slatefur stared after them in bewilderment, confused as to why the mood had changed so suddenly. _What does Berryheart know about Darktail?_

“Slatefur,” Berryheart meowed. “Do you remember when I found you, on the day that I left Clan territory?”

“Yes,” Slatefur said impatiently. “We just discussed this. You asked me to pass on a message about where you had gone to Sparrowtail and—”

“Do you remember,” she interrupted, “What I looked like?”

Slatefur frowned. “Yes. You… your pelt was a mess, like you’d fallen into the lake and then rolled in a bramble thicket.” He paused. “Why was that? What happened to you?”

Berryheart’s eyes bore into his. “I left the camp that morning with Beenose. We knew we couldn’t stay with the rogues after what they’d done to RiverClan. We went to Darktail and explained our decision, and… and he said that we were no longer his Kin. Then he escorted us down to the lake.”

Slatefur trembled, though he couldn’t tell the reason for it. “Why?”

The queen seemed to gather herself together before she spoke again. “He had a few of the other rogues with him… and Sleekwhisker. When we got down there… they grabbed us, all at once. And then they pushed us into the water.”

Slatefur felt like a stone had dropped into his stomach as the queen continued to speak. “They were drowning us. There was no hesitation in their actions, no doubt, not even from Sleekwhisker. They all did exactly as Darktail asked.” She winced. “I only survived because I let them think I was dead before I really was. Then they let go of me. And… and Beenose wasn’t so lucky.” Her voice quavered. “I know. I could tell from the way they acted, like it wasn’t even a struggle for them… they had done it before. Many times. This was _normal_ for them.”

The world seemed to fade away. Slatefur sank down to the grass and squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he couldn’t stop what Berryheart was about to say, already hearing the words in his head but refusing to believe them.

“Slatefur… your littermates are dead. Darktail killed them on the day they tried to leave.”

“ **No.** ” The word escaped from his mouth before he could even think. He had to deny it. He couldn’t let it be true, not for a moment. “You _can’t_ know that. You didn’t see their bodies, you didn’t see Darktail touch a single hair on their pelts! Just because he did it once doesn’t mean—doesn’t mean that—” He was gasping for breath, barely even registering Cloverfoot and Rippletail on either side of him as they tried to speak. “They’re still out there! They _have_ to be!”

“Slatefur.”

“They _can’t_ be dead. You don’t know a _single_ thing you’re—”

Dovewing was padding up behind him, her mew gentle. “Slatefur. Where were your littermates going?”

“ThunderClan.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“I was in ThunderClan the whole time, Slatefur. They never got there. Neither did Dawnpelt. She tried to leave the Kin, too, and she sent her kits ahead of her. They made it safely, but Dawnpelt never arrived. She wouldn’t have just abandoned her kits like that.”

“We’re not _talking_ about—”

“And your littermates wouldn’t have abandoned you.”

Despair enveloped him like water closing above his head. He was drowning, drowning just like his littermates had. Darkness surrounded his eyes, and his ears were deafened to the mews of the others, to Rippletail and Cloverfoot trying to comfort him, to Berryheart whispering soothingly.

_They’re dead. They’re dead. They’re dead._

_I spent three moons searching for them, and they’re dead._ He opened his jaws and let out a wordless howl to the skies above, putting all of his grief and anguish into it, crying out until he had nothing left and letting joy leave him for good. How would he ever be able to feel happy again? _How can I ever be_ **_anything_ ** _ever again?_

A tail landed on his back, and then another. And, after some time, a voice spoke.

“Slatefur. You’re going to be okay.” It was Cloverfoot. “And do you know why?”

He didn’t respond.

“Because your littermates need you, Slatefur.”

“They’re _gone_ ,” he whispered.

“Not all of them,” she said. “In fact, one of them is even more alone than you are, right now.”

A face entered his mind, brown with white splotches. The cat’s eyes were a clear light blue, full of optimism and kindness.

“Puddleshine,” he whispered.

“That’s right,” Cloverfoot murmured. “Puddleshine. And he doesn’t even know what’s happened to them. The only cat who should tell him—the only cat who _can_ tell him—is you.”

Somehow he managed to get to his paws. He blinked his eyes open, taking in Rippletail’s steady support, Cloverfoot’s determined gaze, and Berryheart’s comforting warmth.

And he knew what was going to happen.

“I’m coming home with you,” he said, his voice shaking but certain. “I’m coming back to ShadowClan.”

 

 

 

**Chapter 4**

 

Blaze and Cinnamon returned not long after, carrying with them a thrush and a pigeon. Ears pricked, Rippletail listened contentedly as Cloverfoot introduced the two city cats to Slatefur, mentioning Blaze’s exceptional hunting skills and Cinnamon’s experience with herbs. After the kits and Berryheart had eaten, the rest of the cats began to divide up what prey was left among themselves.

Cloverfoot padded towards him, with Slatefur following. The tabby she-cat was carrying the squirrel they’d worked together to catch earlier that day. “I thought Slatefur could share with us,” she mewed, dropping the squirrel at his paws. “We did sort of steal his catch, after all.”

Rippletail purred. “That seems fair to me.”

The three of them sat beside the pond, chewing on the squirrel in silence. Nearby, Berryheart and Sparrowtail played with their kits, dangling their tails in front of them and letting their tiny claws shred them.

A gasp from Dovewing broke the placid scene. “Tigerheart!”

Rippletail whipped his head around towards the she-cat’s mew. “What is it? Is he alright?”

“He’s coughing!” she cried. “I think something’s wrong!”

Climbing to his paws, Rippletail left the nearly-finished squirrel and bounded over to where the dark tabby lay choking with Dovewing crouched over him. Cloverfoot and Slatefur followed, and most of the others came running up to sit nearby. Berryheart remained behind, firmly keeping her kits in place with her tail.

Tigerheart’s deep amber eyes sprang open, but his breathing only worsened. The big tom’s paws twitched in every direction as he opened his mouth repeatedly to gasp for air, only for another series of coughs to wrack his body. “I can’t breathe,” he managed to choke out, his mew ragged.

Rippletail watched with horror at the cat who had once been his Clan deputy, now lying helplessly in the grass, barely able to speak. _He can’t be dying. Not now, not when we’re so close to the lake._

“ShadowClan,” Tigerheart continued, weakening with every word. “ShadowClan must survive.” Suddenly he jerked his head around so that he was facing where Rippletail sat beside Cloverfoot and Slatefur. Rippletail gave a small start as the dark tabby tom’s eyes gazed directly into his own.

“You have to save it,” Tigerheart begged. Even as his mew faded, his eyes blazed with an intensity that seemed to pierce straight through Rippletail, immobilizing him on the ground where he sat.

None of the other cats seemed to notice. Dovewing whimpered, pressing her flank against her mate’s. “Don’t die.” Her anguished mew was joined by those of her kits as they clung to their father, burying their muzzles deep into his fur. “Please don’t die.”

Tigerheart opened his jaws again, breathing one last message to his mate, but it was too soft for Rippletail to hear. Then the dark tabby’s head fell to the grass, and with a last shudder, his flanks lay still.

Dovewing let out a low moan, pushing her muzzle deeper into her mate’s fur. Her kits whimpered softly, their tiny tails drooping.

Rippletail barely noticed, his mind consumed by the words Tigerheart had spoken to him. _You have to save it._ **_You_ ** _have to save it._ The fallen warrior had been speaking directly to him, Rippletail was convinced. The thought terrified him. _How can I save the Clan I abandoned?_

No cat moved, their eyes riveted on Dovewing, her body collapsed on top of Tigerheart’s own. Small, pitiful noises were still emanating from her muzzle. None of the rest of them could truly understand her grief, Rippletail knew. They’d all lost cats they cared about when ShadowClan was ravaged by the rogues, and he’d seen firsthand the power of Slatefur’s anguish over his littermates.

_But losing your mate_ , Rippletail thought, _Is another thing entirely._

“What do we do now?” Sparrowtail asked, his voice low.

It was a moment before any cat responded. “Do?” Cinnamon said, her mew thick with tension. “What do you mean, what do we _do_?”

“I-I mean,” Sparrowtail said, confusion in his eyes, “We don’t have a leader anymore, and… we don’t have any reason to go on. It was Tigerheart who convinced us to return to ShadowClan. It was Tigerheart’s injury that put us in such a hurry to get back. Without him, we’re not former ShadowClan cats returning at last, we’re just… a bunch of cats who deserted their Clan. So… Do we even keep going? Or are we gone from ShadowClan for good?”

Cloverfoot stepped forward, her pelt bristling. “Are you mouse-brained?” she hissed. “This was never about Tigerheart. We _are_ ShadowClan cats, no matter what. How can you even say something like that? Our path hasn’t changed at all. We still have to rebuild our Clan.”

Slatefur spoke up. “I think Sparrowtail has a point,” the sleek gray tom meowed slowly. “None of us want to abandon ShadowClan. But without someone to guide us… how will we know what to do?”

Sparrowtail blinked gratefully at his former apprentice.

Cloverfoot’s tail lashed from side to side. “We’ll figure it out! Or we’ll die trying! Isn’t it our duty to at least _try_ , after everything Tigerheart sacrificed so that we could return to ShadowClan?”

“And Spiresight,” Blaze growled, his pelt rippling. “Do you want his death to have been in vain, too?”

Rippletail kept silent as the others argued, aware of what they were saying but finding it difficult to let their decision affect him. A storm was raging inside his mind, and not just because of what Tigerheart had said. Faces were flashing in front of his eyes, one after another: A pale gray she-cat, a dark gray tom, a black tom.

“I don’t know about you,” Ant chimed in, dipping his head to Cinnamon. “But I left the city because I believed in Tigerheart. With him gone, I’m not so sure about leaving everything behind to join the Clans. We had a good life in the city. We can always go back.”

The tabby she-cat turned towards her friend, her eyes flashing. “We left because of Dovewing, too! And their kits! How can you even think of abandoning them?”

As Rippletail watched, the bickering continued to grow, until he could no longer even hear his own thoughts over the other cats’ raised voices. Dovewing silently got up from where she lay beside Tigerheart’s body, and, gathering up her kits with her tail, withdrew off to the side.

Finally Cloverfoot let out a loud yowl. “Enough!” Flicking her tail with annoyance, the gray tabby waited until all of the other cats had quieted down. “We’re not going to decide on what to do right now. I think we can all at least agree that Tigerheart’s memory deserves more respect than for us to squabble over his body like pigeons.”

Sparrowtail padded over to stand beside her. “You’re right. We should let calmer heads prevail.” The large tom’s gaze scanned the small crowd of other cats. “We can discuss our course of action after we’ve all taken a little while to think about what has happened.”

Cloverfoot nodded. “Thank you, Sparrowtail. Let’s gather again after we’ve all had a moment to breathe.”

The cats began to disperse, heading off towards the pond or the trees to talk amongst themselves. Sparrowtail bounded over to where Berryheart lay with their kits, then dipped his head towards her, whispering rapidly. Dovewing remained behind with her kits, murmuring softly to them as they continued to gaze mournfully at Tigerheart’s body.

Rippletail wandered off with the others, dazed, not paying attention to where he was heading. Then, like a fierce wind in his face, the knowledge of what was going to happen next stopped him dead in his tracks.

_They are going to leave_. He could hear the certainty in Cloverfoot’s voice as she had argued for returning to ShadowClan. No matter what Ant or any of the others might try to say to persuade her, his sister would get her way in the end.

His whiskers twitching, the white tom broken into a run, darting along one of the scent trails that the other cats had left. One idea had risen in his mind above all the rest, giving him something to cling to amidst the chaos.

_I have to speak to Slatefur._

He found his former Clanmate near the edge of the birch forest, where the wavy grass gave way to thick undergrowth. The gray tom’s tail was raised, and his legs were dropped into a hunter’s crouch. He stiffened, scenting Rippletail’s approach, then relaxed when he realized who it was.

“You’re hunting already?” Rippletail purred jokingly. “We just ate!”

Slatefur’s tail gave a small twitch. “It helps me relax,” he said. “I need to clear my head, just like Sparrowtail said.”

Rippletail gave a brief nod, then jerked his muzzle towards the trees. “Can we talk privately?”

Slatefur frowned. “Sure, I guess.”

They padded a short distance into the trees, Rippletail giving a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure none of the other cats had been watching. None of them seemed to have noticed their departure.

Once they reached a small opening in the trees, Rippletail stopped, turning around to face the other tom and taking a deep breath.

“Slatefur,” he began, “I can’t go back to ShadowClan.”

The gray tom looked puzzled. “Isn’t that a bit hasty of you? We haven’t even decided what we’re going to—”

Rippletail shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Maybe you have doubts, maybe Sparrowtail has doubts, but Cloverfoot wants to go back. And Cloverfoot always gets what she wants, and—and I _can’t_ go back. I just can’t.”

Lowering his voice, Slatefur asked, “Is this because of Heronwing?”

Rippletail kneaded the ground anxiously. Slatefur was the only other cat who knew the truth about the RiverClan warrior, aside from Cloverfoot. He had told them both, all those moons ago at the lake. “Of course it is,” he said. “But not just him. There… there was another cat with us, from the city. A black tom, named Spiresight. He died saving one of Tigerheart’s kits, because I was too reckless.”

“Is that true?” Slatefur’s mew was sharp. “Or are you just determined to convince yourself that it was your fault because you _want_ to stay away from ShadowClan?”

Rippletail’s fur spiked with alarm. _Why did he say that?_ “Did Cloverfoot tell you what happened?”

“She didn’t have to,” Slatefur snapped. “I _know_ you, Rippletail. You’re so caught up in one mistake you made that you can’t stop seeing everything else as your fault, too. You just want to feel sorry for yourself.”

Rippletail bristled. “That’s not fair! You’re not sure about returning to the lake, either!”

“No, I’m not,” the young tom admitted. “But I know we should. I just don’t know if we _can_ , without someone to lead us.” His tail drooped.

For a moment, Rippletail remained silent. Then he lifted his head. “Tigerheart wanted me to lead you,” he confessed.

Slatefur gazed at him, his green eyes wide with shock. “What? When did he tell you that?”

“As he was dying,” Rippletail murmured. “When he said to save ShadowClan. He stared right at me.”

“Are you sure he meant you specifically? You weren’t just imagining it?”

“I don’t know,” Rippletail said. “But the thought of it terrifies me.”

“Why?” asked Slatefur, tipping his head. “Isn’t that exactly why you _should_ go back? To fulfill Tigerheart’s dying wish?”

“No!” Rippletail drew back, horrified. “Don’t you see? I can’t lead the Clan, after everything I’ve done! If that’s what the future holds in store for me—”

“The future can be whatever you _want_ it to be!” the gray tom exclaimed, bushing up his fur. “Even if Tigerheart really meant that for you alone, I don’t think he meant you had to become deputy. There are other ways to save ShadowClan. All you have to do—all _any_ of us has to do—is be a loyal warrior for our Clan. You could take a mate and have kits…” His eyes glimmered mischievously. “Isn’t there any cat you thought might be your mate someday?”

Rippletail stared at the ground. “Mistcloud,” he whispered.

Slatefur’s expression grew somber in an instant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know.”

“No one did,” Rippletail said quietly. “I don’t think even Sparrowtail suspected. We hadn’t gotten serious about it. We were just… we got along well. And I think we both hoped we might take it farther. But then the rogues came, and Mistcloud left, and…” He stopped, unable to say what had happened next. _And she died._

Slatefur padded closer to him, his voice thick with sympathy. “I know what it feels like. She was with my littermates when they… when Darktail killed them.” His mew quavered, but he didn’t slow down. “You’re not alone in this, I promise.”

Rippletail gazed at his former Clanmate hopefully. “I know. Don’t you see? You’re the only other cat who understands.”

The young tom pulled his head back, his green eyes clouding with confusion.

“No matter what happens, I’m not going back to ShadowClan,” Rippletail said, now more determined than he had been before. “Not after Mistcloud, and Heronwing, and Spiresight. Not if I have to lead. I’m leaving the group, Slatefur. And I want you to come with me.”

A small shudder seemed to run down Slatefur’s spine. “W-what do you mean?” he asked nervously. His paws shifted on the forest floor.

“You heard me,” Rippletail said, more calmly this time. “You should come with me. I’d appreciate not being on my own, and you’re not sure if you belong in ShadowClan without your littermates.”

Slowly Slatefur shook his head. “No,” he meowed firmly. “I never went looking for my littermates because I needed to be with them. I wanted to find them because _they_ needed to return to the Clan, for the Clan’s sake and their own.”

Rippletail stiffened. “But you said at the meeting that you agreed with Sparrowtail. You—you said that you weren’t sure how ShadowClan could survive without a leader. And we all know Rowanstar isn’t enough to hold us together. Without Tigerheart… the Clan will just fall apart all over again. And I can’t fill his place.”

“That’s not exactly what happened,” the gray-furred tom said, lowering his muzzle apologetically. “I said Sparrowtail made a good point about needing a reason to go on. I never said it was impossible. And Cloverfoot was right—at the end of the day, we _are_ ShadowClan cats. We could never be anything else.”

_We’ll figure it out! Or we’ll die trying!_ The tabby she-cat’s words rang in Rippletail’s mind, making his pelt prick with their clear, straightforward confidence. He shook his head, trying to push his sister’s speech away.  _Shut up! I know what I’m doing!_

Seeming self-conscious, Slatefur he sat back on his haunches and gave his shoulder fur a quick lick. Then he glanced over at Rippletail again, hope glimmering in his green eyes. Rippletail stared back at him sadly. _Did he think he was going to persuade me to stay with the group?_ “I really thought you would get it,” he said despondently. “The others are different. They haven’t lost as much as we have. But… without Mistcloud, without your littermates…”

“My littermates are _why_ I have to go back,” said Slatefur, his pelt rippling with a vigorous certainty. The young tom looked stronger, more sure of himself than when Rippletail had parted ways with him at the lake. “Not just for Puddleshine, so that I can tell him what happened, but for Birchbark and Lioneye too. They died—and so did Mistcloud—because they all realized what a terrible mistake we made by allowing our Clan to fall so far from the warrior code. I owe it to their memory to never give up on ShadowClan.”

Rippletail felt his fur spike with fear. _I don’t want to go off alone_ , he realized. “You’re completely sure?” he asked, hating the pleading whine in his voice.

Slatefur nodded. “I’m sorry. I abandoned my Clan once before. I won’t do it again.”

A dull pain grew in Rippletail’s chest, as if Slatefur had raked his claws over it a little bit with every word. His tail low, Rippletail silently turned away, beginning to pad farther into the trees. _You won’t. But I have no choice._

“Wait!” came Slatefur’s alarmed mew. “At least think about it a little longer! Talk to Cloverfoot, or—or _someone_ else first!”

Rippletail stopped. Then, slowly, he turned his head back to face his former Clanmate. The gray tom’s eyes were wide with sorrow. “I don’t have a choice,” Rippletail whispered. “If I talk to Cloverfoot, she won’t let me leave. I have to go _now_.”

Slatefur stared back at him despairingly. A moment passed before, almost imperceptibly, he jerked his muzzle in a small nod.

Rippletail hesitated, before blurting out, “And you won’t tell anyone?”

Slatefur looked horrified. “Not even Berryheart or Cloverfoot?”

“No one,” the white tom pressed, his expression tragic. He knew it wasn’t fair. Berryheart had done the same thing, when she’d first fled the Kin. His sister had told Slatefur where she was going, but demanded that he only give the information to Sparrowtail and Needletail, not her littermates. For him to make the same request of the gray tom was almost cruel, both to Slatefur himself and to Berryheart and Cloverfoot. _But I have no choice._

Slatefur blinked slowly. “Okay,” he murmured. “No one.”

Feeling as weary as if he’d run the full length of ShadowClan territory, Rippletail turned around and began his slow walk into the trees. He could feel Slatefur’s eyes burning into his pelt, and for just a moment, he hesitated. But when he looked back, the gray tom was gone.

 

 

**Chapter 5**

 

Slatefur’s nose wrinkled as he crossed the scent line, and a shudder ran down his spine. The thick tang of the pine forest was just as he remembered it, and he could still detect whiffs of ShadowClan scent underneath it all. But they were overlaid by a newer, sharper scent, one that almost reminded him of ThunderClan but was unmistakably different in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

Berryheart had taken him aside on the day-long journey back to the lake and explained what the rest of the group had learned from Dovewing and Tigerheart. Slatefur had barely gotten over the shock of hearing about the existence of SkyClan, the fifth living Clan, before the black-and-white queen had informed him, with a slight growl, that Tigerheart had convinced Rowanstar to give up a large portion of ShadowClan territory for SkyClan to use as their own.

His lips curling, Slatefur gave the border marking another good sniff. Before now, he hadn’t been sure whether to actually believe Berryheart’s story. But the evidence was right there in front of him. _This isn’t a ShadowClan border_ , Slatefur thought, his pelt pricking in anger. _This land belongs to SkyClan now._

Forcing his fur to lie flat, he stepped gingerly across the scent line, then glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the group. Cloverfoot, Berryheart, and Sparrowtail stared back, their eyes wide with disbelief. He nodded, then signaled with a flick of his tail for them to follow.

Ant stepped over the border first, glancing curiously at the scent marks as he passed, but without any discomfort. The city tom had never known what ShadowClan territory was supposed to smell like. But Sparrowtail was right behind him, his eyes narrowed. Clearly none of the former ShadowClan cats were going to have an easy time accepting the new boundary lines.

Behind them, their pelts dappled by specks of sunlight even this deep into the pine trees, were Cinnamon, Dovewing, Cloverfoot, and Blaze, pressed together shoulder-to-shoulder as they stumbled forward. Laying across their backs, fur ragged and muscles limp, was Tigerheart’s body.

It hadn’t been easy for Dovewing to persuade the group to put in the extra effort and time needed to carry Tigerheart back to the lake with them. But, slowly, Cloverfoot and even Sparrowtail had taken the pale gray she-cat’s side, arguing that their former deputy deserved a proper Clan burial after all he had given up for his Clan. _It’s the least we can do, after we sided with the rogues_ , Slatefur remembered Cloverfoot saying. _We drove him out of the camp. Now we can bring him back._

The group was even more reluctant to leave after they had realized Rippletail was missing. At first, Slatefur had dared to hope that one of the others might track his scent trail, find him, and convince him to come back. But it soon became clear that the white tom had taken steps to prevent that from happening. None of the cats could find any trace of him, and Slatefur realized that he must have let his scent get lost in one of the small streams that fed the pond. With no way to learn what had happened to Rippletail—and with the evening chill approaching and Berryheart’s kits still only a moon old—the group had sadly agreed that there was nothing they could do but move on. Slatefur’s pelt had grown hot with guilt as he sat there through the debate, hardly opening his mouth for fear that he might accidentally reveal what he knew. He wasn’t sure which was worse: The shame of lying to his Clanmates, or the knowledge that he alone had let Rippletail walk away.

For most of the journey, Slatefur had helped to shoulder the weight of Tigerheart’s body, marching alongside Dovewing as they crossed the valley and the moor, then skirted around behind ThunderClan’s territory to reach the rear ShadowClan border. But the burden had taken its toll on him, and, shoulders aching, he had finally asked Cinnamon to take his place. Since then he had scouted ahead of the group, his sleek gray fur rippling as he darted ahead to check for any potential dangers.

The only cat who had carried Tigerheart the whole way was Dovewing. Though her pelt was matted and her paws clearly sore, there was a fire burning in her eyes that refused to go out as she staggered across the ground, her mate’s fallen form draped across her back. Her kits had followed close behind her, their eyes dull with grief and their tails drooped.

Once Berryheart, her small kits nestled into the fur on her back, had stepped over the border, Slatefur nodded for the four cats carrying Tigerheart to proceed. They started forward together, their paws moving in slow, jerky unison.

Suddenly Dovewing stopped, her fur bristling. “This isn’t the SkyClan border!” she gasped, green eyes stretched wide.

Beside her, Cloverfoot grunted as she fought to keep Tigerheart’s body from falling. “What do you mean? This has to be their scent line. It’s certainly not ShadowClan’s.”

The ThunderClan queen lashed her tail. “No, I mean—this isn’t where the border’s supposed to be. Rowanstar didn’t give them this much territory. Their land is only supposed to extend halfway up the ThunderClan border. We’re at the _edge_ of ShadowClan territory here.”

“Are you sure?” Slatefur asked, his pelt spiking.

“I’m certain of it,” Dovewing meowed. “I… I met Tigerheart on SkyClan’s land several times, before we went away.” She broke away from Cloverfoot’s gaze, slightly embarrassed. “I know where the border goes.”

“Is it possible that Rowanstar gave them more land?” asked Blaze. The young ginger tom was sniffing at one of the scent marks, his whiskers twitching.

Dovewing looked worried. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem like they needed more, but… I suppose anything is possible.”

Slatefur felt apprehension growing in his stomach. _If Rowanstar was willing to cede more of our territory, how weak is ShadowClan now? How many warriors does it have left?_

“We won’t learn anything by waiting here,” Sparrowtail called confidently. “The sooner we reach the camp, the sooner we can learn what happened.” Murmurs of assent from Cloverfoot and Cinnamon greeted his words, and Slatefur felt his pelt lie flat again. There had to be _some_ explanation.

The patrol began to move forward again, treading slight-pawed over the soft earth of the forest. Slatefur closed his eyes for a moment as he waited for the others to catch up, letting the scent of pine sap flow around him. Small sounds all around in the thicket signaled the presence of prey, and from off in the distance he could pick up the distinct odor of the marshy land where he’d caught his first vole. _No matter what happens after this_ , he mused contentedly, _I’m glad we’re back home._

They hadn’t been walking much longer when Slatefur caught another whiff on the breeze. Cat scent. Not from far off—heading their way, fast. He looked towards the others. Their fur was spiked nervously. They had noticed, too. Quickly Sparrowtail and Ant stepped forward to join him, the three toms placing themselves in front of Berryheart and the cats bearing Tigerheart’s weight.

Racing towards them from the trees were three cats, their fur bristling and their ears laid flat. As the wind whipped through their pelts it revealed lithe, well-muscled bodies, and the cats’ paws thrummed across the ground in brief, steady movements. These were warriors, and despite their hostile expressions Slatefur couldn’t help but feel a flash of joy at finally being back among the Clans.

In the lead was a black tom, his eyes narrowed with suspicion as they swept over Slatefur’s group. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his claws out.

The second cat—a younger gray-and-white tom—stopped right beside him, his tail lashing from to side to side and his lips drawn back in a snarl. “ _More_ rogues? Haven’t they learned their lesson yet?”

But their companion—a white tom—pushed past them, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “Sparrowtail?” he meowed eagerly. “And Slatefur! And—” His brow furrowed momentarily with confusion as his eyes settled on Ant, but then he noticed the cats behind them and let out another excited yowl. “You’re _all_ back!”

Slatefur stepped forward, purring as he briefly touched noses with the cat he now recognized as Stonewing, one of his former ShadowClan Clanmates. “Yes,” he said happily. “We are.” He glanced at the other two cats—Juniperclaw and his apprentice, Whorlpaw. Something seemed strange about them, pricking at Slatefur’s pelt like an unseen flea. Their fur carried traces of familiar ShadowClan scent, but layered on top of it was the odd scent that had been on the border markings. _Is that really SkyClan scent?_ Slatefur wondered. _Why do they smell like that?_

His confusion was quickly forgotten as Sparrowtail spoke up, his head turned toward Juniperclaw. “What in the name of StarClan happened while we were gone? Dovewing told us about SkyClan,” he said, flicking his tail behind him at the gray she-cat, “But she clearly doesn’t have the full story.”

Juniperclaw looked confused at first as he spotted the ThunderClan cat, her pelt squashed between Cinnamon’s and Cloverfoot’s. Then his eyes widened as he moved his gaze up to Tigerheart’s limp form lying atop their backs.

“That can wait,” he said quickly, his eyes dark. “We should bring you to Puddleshine first. He can take a look at your… injured.”

“Puddleshine?” Slatefur asked, fear spreading through his voice. He suddenly felt very weak, his legs shaking as if it was his first day out of the camp as an apprentice. _I didn’t expect to see him this soon!_

A pelt brushed up against his. Turning, he saw that it was Berryheart, her expression steady and supportive. He blinked back at her gratefully. _But that’s okay. It doesn’t matter what I have to tell him. Puddleshine will understand. He’s my brother._

Stonewing nodded. “He’s nearby, collecting herbs. We came along to help, and to keep him safe. There was some trouble with the rogues recently.”

Slatefur saw the white tom exchange a quick glance with Juniperclaw, as if warning him not to say anything. The black warrior’s eyes flashed with something unreadable—pain? _How much trouble, exactly, did they have?_ thought Slatefur. _Were more cats killed?_

But Juniperclaw and his apprentice had already moved into positions on either side of their group, and Stonewing was whisking his tail for them to follow. The patrol started to stumble forward once again, slowly guided by the ShadowClan cats. Slatefur moved forward to Stonewing’s side, padding along with him in silence.

They hadn’t gone far before, rounding a large border, they came across a clump of ferns growing between two tall pines. On the other side, a brown tail was sticking up in the air, waving gently back and forth as its owner scuffled around through the ferns.

Suddenly Slatefur realized that Stonewing had stopped walking. The white tom was staring at him, his tail straight up. Behind them, the rest of the patrol had halted a short distance away. “Go ahead,” Stonewing said calmly. “We’ll wait for you here.”

Slatefur blinked gratefully. His paws as heavy as stones, he turned back towards the ferns and took a few hesitant steps forward.

Then he fluffed his pelt out. _There’s nothing to be worried about._ He strode ahead, more confidently this time. _I’m not afraid of this._

He cleared his throat and let his meow ring clearly through the forest. “Puddleshine.”

The next moment seemed to drag on forever. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, not from fear, but from anticipation. The rest of the world seemed to fall away as he fixed his gaze on the tail hovering just above the leaves.

A cat appeared around the edge of the ferns, a young brown tom with patches of white fur distributed randomly throughout his pelt. His ears were pricked with disbelief. “Slatefur?” His mew shook as he stared across the small distance between them. Then his eyes brightened with joy, and he opened his jaws in an ecstatic yowl. “Slatefur! It’s really you!”

Brimming with energy, Slatefur leapt forward, meeting Puddleshine halfway as he scrambled out of the ferns. Several leaves were still clinging to the medicine cat’s fur. Puddleshine thrust his muzzle forward, and Slatefur did the same, the two cats rubbing against each others’ cheeks. He breathed in deeply, picking up the strong scent of herbs, but underneath it was _Puddleshine_ , his scent as warm and familiar as it had been when they were kits lying at Pinenose’s belly in the ShadowClan camp. For a moment he forgot everything that had happened, everything that had gone wrong. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could still imagine Birchbark and Lioneye’s scents, too, and he closed his eyes as he buried his nose deep into his brother’s neck fur, letting himself remember what it had been like when the four of them had been together.

The illusion faded, and he drew his muzzle back, gazing straight at Puddleshine’s eyes, as clear blue as the sky in greenleaf. They were filled with the hope and kindness that had driven his brother ever since they were apprentices, and Slatefur realized how hard it would be to force himself to shatter that fragile peace, to tell Puddleshine what had become of their littermates.

But Puddleshine broke into a purr. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We’ll have time to catch up later. I can see you’re not alone.” With an affectionate flick of his tail over Slatefur’s ear, he brushed past him towards the other cats.

The knowledge that he wouldn’t have to mention their littermates’ tragic fate until later made a wave of relief wash over Slatefur’s pelt. But it was accompanied by a twinge of guilt pricking at his heart. _I should have told him right away._

Puddleshine stiffened as he spotted Tigerheart lying atop the backs of Dovewing and the other cats. “What _happened_ to you all?” he breathed.

Juniperclaw huffed. “And why is there a _ThunderClan_ cat with you?”

Cloverfoot raised her muzzle to meet the black tom’s eyes. “Do you want the full story?”

Stonewing lashed his tail and leaned forward, his eyes brimming with interest. “All of it.”

Piece by piece, their group began to fill the four ShadowClan cats in on everything they had experienced, from the lake to the Twolegplace and everywhere in-between. Cloverfoot led the narration, her mew unflinching, almost as if she was daring their Clanmates to challenge their right to return to the Clan. Dovewing would interject to explain what she and Tigerheart had been doing in the city, and occasionally Sparrowtail or Ant would interrupt with additional clarification where they felt the she-cats had missed something. Yet Slatefur found himself keeping quiet about his own experiences. It was too difficult to explain what he had been doing without telling Puddleshine that he had been searching for their littermates. When Cloverfoot brought up the matter of Rippletail’s departure from the group, he’d stared at the ground, not trusting himself to meet his Clanmates’ gazes without betraying some hint of secrecy in his eyes.

The ShadowClan cats’ tails twitched and their fur rustled as they listened to the story, their eyes widening with surprise quite a few times—and narrowing in disapproval once or twice. When Dovewing explained that her kits were Tigerheart’s, Juniperclaw let out a low growl. But the black tom said nothing.

When the story had concluded, Slatefur sat back on his haunches, anxiously looking at Puddleshine. _Is he angry that I stayed away for so long?_ He searched his brother’s clear blue eyes, looking for any sign that he felt betrayed or abandoned. But when Puddleshine turned toward him, there was nothing but love in his expression.

“So… so what do we do now?” Whorlpaw asked, tipping his head.

“We need to give Tigerheart a proper burial,” Blaze said, his tail twitching.

Berryheart nodded. “We were heading for the camp when we came across you,” she meowed to Stonewing.

Stonewing’s eyes flashed with alarm. “No. We can’t take you there yet.” For the second time, Slatefur found himself wondering if their Clanmates were hiding something from them. _Is there something wrong with the camp?_

“Why not?” Cinnamon asked, blinking. “We’ve traveled a long way. And we brought Tigerheart with us for a reason. Won’t your Clanmates want to know that he’s dead?”

Ant stepped forward, his fur bristling. “Not to mention that we’ve told you everything that happened. What reason do you have not to trust us?”

“It’s not that,” Stonewing mewed apologetically. “Just—” The white tom’s eyes clouded, as if he wasn’t sure what to say.

“We can’t bury him yet!” Puddleshine’s yowl rang over their heads. Slatefur turned to stare at his brother, shock running down his spine. The medicine cat’s tail was sweeping from side to side restlessly, and his fur was spiked with a sudden energy. “We have to take him to the Moonpool first. Even if he’s dead, he can still share tongues with StarClan. It’s the only logical thing to do. We have to go _now_.”

Even as Slatefur felt his paws shake with bewilderment, the air erupted with the other cats’ cries, both from his group and from the ShadowClan warriors.

“What in _StarClan_ are you talking about?” Juniperclaw yowled.

“We just came from that direction!” Sparrowtail exclaimed angrily.

Cloverfoot’s voice was indignant. “Nothing you just said makes any sense!”

Puddleshine’s muzzle swung from side to side frantically. His eyes were wide with terror and his fur was bushed out completely as every cat assaulted him with questions.

Finally the tirade died down, and Stonewing stepped towards the brown tom, blinking slowly. “Puddleshine,” he began, his mew gentle, “What exactly would we accomplish by taking Tigerheart to the Moonpool? Even if he shared with StarClan, a dead cat wouldn’t be able to tell us what he learned.”

Puddleshine dipped his head. “I can’t tell you, exactly,” he said softly. “I… I can’t say how I know. I just _know_. We need to take him there, as soon as possible.” His tail low, he looked back up at Stonewing, his eyes full of pleading. “You need to trust me. We _have_ to do this.”

The white tom didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t understand what you think is going to happen. If you aren’t even sure of it yourself—”

“He _is_ sure,” Slatefur meowed firmly, cutting Stonewing off. The warrior looked over at him with surprise, but flicked his tail for him to continue. Taking a deep breath, Slatefur went on. “Puddleshine is a medicine cat. He knows more about the will of StarClan than any of us. He became an apprentice before he was six moons old, and he had to take the responsibility of looking after our entire Clan onto his shoulders, without even having a permanent mentor to rely on.”

Slatefur moved his gaze across the small crowd of cats, noting the growing acceptance in Cloverfoot and Dovewing’s eyes. “Puddleshine received his full name at only eight moons,” he continued, “And he’s done more to take care of us since then than any cat would have believed possible. He supported us all when we made the mistake of siding with the rogues, and he’s never failed in his duties even once. Without him, some of us might not even be alive today.” He padded to his brother’s side, giving him a quick lick on the shoulder before turning back to the face the other cats. “Maybe he doesn’t know exactly what’s going to happen. But none of us have been sure of anything these past few moons, and Puddleshine _is_ sure that we have to take Tigerheart to the Moonpool. If we can’t trust him to know what StarClan demands, how can we trust anyone? How can we rejoin our Clan?”

Puddleshine blinked at him, gratitude filling his eyes. Slatefur brushed against his brother’s pelt as they stared out at the rest of the cats, waiting for an answer.

Finally Cloverfoot raised her muzzle again. “Slatefur speaks the truth. We have to trust in the will of StarClan.” She turned towards Stonewing. “We’re heading to the Moonpool. Will you join us?”

Stonewing and Juniperclaw exchanged another glance, then both toms nodded in unison. Juniperclaw flicked his tail at Whorlpaw. “Run back to camp and tell them what’s happened, quickly.”

The apprentice puffed out his chest, his gray-and-white fur pricking with pride. “I’ll make sure they know,” he promised. Then he whipped around, haring off into the trees.

Stonewing took a hesitant step towards Cloverfoot, his tail twitching. “If you don’t mind, I’d be willing to help carry Tigerheart for a little while. I’m sure you must be tired.”

“Take Blaze’s place,” the gray tabby grunted. “He’s the most worn out.”

The ShadowClan warrior dipped his head in acknowledgement, then turned to Blaze. The young ginger tom blinked his thanks as Stonewing slid underneath Tigerheart’s pelt in his place, staggering a bit as the large tabby’s weight fell onto his shoulders.

Sparrowtail watched with wry amusement on his face, then, after a moment, dipped his head to Puddleshine. “We’re ready,” he meowed. “Lead the way.” 

 

 

They passed beyond Clan territory mostly in silence, trekking behind the ThunderClan border towards the Moonpool. Though Dovewing had assured them that her Clanmates would understand their urgency and allow them to travel through ThunderClan territory, Stonewing hadn’t been willing to take the risk of encountering an unfriendly patrol.

Even in the cool air of leaf-fall, travelling so much over the last two days with the sun directly overhead had clearly taken its toll on some of the cats. Not long into the journey, Slatefur noticed Juniperclaw dipping his head to Cinnamon, meowing to her in a low voice. The brown tabby she-cat’s eyes had shone with relief, and she had allowed the ShadowClan tom to take her place carrying Tigerheart’s body.

More than once Slatefur felt that he should tell Puddleshine about their littermates before the group reached the Moonpool. _The sooner I tell him, the more time he’ll have to come to terms with it._ But each time he hesitated when he noticed the determined look in the brown tom’s eyes. He was the Clan’s medicine cat, dedicated to carrying out his duties. _I can’t distract him right now. There will be plenty of time to tell him later._

Instead, he found himself padding along next to Stonewing. The white tom had been understanding when the patrol had shared their story—at least, more understanding than Juniperclaw had been—but now Slatefur was surprised to see his eyes narrowed and unfriendly. His tail was stuck straight up in the air as he walked beside the other cats shouldering Tigerheart’s weight, not making eye contact with Slatefur or any of the others.

After a while, Slatefur decided there was no reason not to ask him about it. “Is something wrong?” he asked, dipping his head as they padded up a small, rocky slope.

Stonewing’s pelt bristled, and the warrior still didn’t meet his gaze. “Tigerheart was with you the entire time?” he muttered, a note of accusation in his voice. “You were all just happy to abandon ShadowClan in its time of need?”

“We made mistakes!” Slatefur hissed back at him indignantly. “But we’re _here_ now, and we know where our loyalty is supposed to lie!”

Stonewing let out a long sigh. “I know you mean that. But it’s hard not to think that maybe if we hadn’t lost so many warriors… we might not be in the situation we are now.”

“And that situation is…?” Slatefur pressed, his ears twitching. He could tell there was something the ShadowClan warriors were still keeping from his group, undoubtedly involving the reason for the SkyClan scent at the border.

The white tom just shook his head. “Not now. Later, I promise. And in any case…. We’re almost there.”

Glancing ahead, Slatefur realized that they had reached a steep slope leading up to a wide hilltop. Though the sky had started to glow a deep orange as the sun lowered, he could make out several bushes at the top of the slope, surrounding the edge of the hill’s peak. _That must be where the Moonpool is_ , Slatefur thought. _I can’t believe Puddleshine climbs up here twice each moon!_

Just ahead of them, Puddleshine leapt up the last few tail-lengths of the slope. He turned around to face the rest of the group, his eyes wide with anticipation. “We’ve made it!” he called out. Then he dipped his head as if embarrassed. “I’m grateful to you all for following me this far,” he mewed. His eyes rested briefly on Slatefur before moving to scan over the rest of the cats. “But I’m afraid you’ll all have to wait here. I will take Tigerheart’s body down to the pool myself.”

Confusion rippled across Slatefur’s pelt, and looking around, he saw the same emotion echoed on the faces of his companions.

“Are you serious?” Sparrowtail meowed with disbelief. “We brought him all the way here, but we’re not allowed to—”

“It’s not fair, I know,” Puddleshine mewed apologetically. “But the Moonpool is for medicine cats, except in the most unusual circumstances. I’m already stepping outside tradition just by bringing Tigerheart here.”

Sparrowtail sat down in a huff, flicking his tail. Berryheart padded up to her mate and lowered herself to the ground as well. At once, their kits jumped down and began to scuffle around their parents, pouncing at their tails and at each other. From near the back of the group, Dovewing’s kits raced forward to join in. Slatefur watched them, warm amusement spreading through his fur at their antics.

His humor suddenly evaporated as he noticed that Juniperclaw, Dovewing, Cloverfoot, and Stonewing had hauled themselves up the rocky slope to the Moonpool, grunting with the effort, their tails wrapped around Tigerheart’s paws to keep him from sliding off their backs. Finally, with a sigh of relief, they allowed the large cat’s body to fall to the ground, landing softly in the grass at the top of the slope. Nodding to Puddleshine, they quickly ran back down to join their companions as the medicine cat dipped his head to grab Tigerheart’s scruff, preparing to pull him through the bushes down to the pool below.

“Wait!” Slatefur cried out, his mew horrified. “Puddleshine!” The brown tom was about to vanish into the bushes, off to share tongues with StarClan. _I might not get another chance to speak to him until long after nightfall!_

At the sound of his voice, Puddleshine turned, letting go of Tigerheart’s scruff as Slatefur bounded up the rocks to join him. “Is something wrong, Slatefur?”

Slatefur stepped close to his brother, feeling hot with guilt beneath his pelt for having waited so long. “I have to tell you something before you go.” Puddleshine’s clear blue eyes gazed openly back at him, and his ears were pricked with innocent curiosity.

A tremor ran through Slatefur’s pelt as he opened his jaws. The words wouldn’t come out. He could feel his heart’s intense beat, as if it had leapt into his throat and was blocking him from speaking.

Puddleshine pressed close to him. “Is it about our littermates?”

Shock flashed through Slatefur’s mind like a sudden blaze of fire. He stared at Puddleshine with disbelief. “How did you know?” His mew was taut, strained as if he couldn’t let go of the burden he had carried for so long.

“I saw them in StarClan,” Puddleshine mewed gently. “They’re—”

“They’re dead. That’s… that’s what I was going to tell you.” Slatefur felt his pelt lighten. _All this time, he knew?_ “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Puddleshine tipped his head. “For what?”

“They’re why I left,” Slatefur whispered. “Birchbark and Lioneye. I left ShadowClan to look for them. I searched for three moons, and I didn’t find any trace of them, because… because there was never any trace to find.” He lowered his gaze, shame coating his fur like water. “I abandoned you and the rest of our Clan for a pointless quest.”

He felt Puddleshine’s muzzle brushing against his. His brother’s voice was easy with acceptance. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You couldn’t have known what happened to them.”

Slatefur pulled back, confusion sparking in his pelt. “Don’t you miss them?” he asked. “Birchbark, and Lioneye, and—and Pinenose?” Spikefur’s name hung unsaid in the air between them.

“Of course I do,” Puddleshine purred, his eyes shining with compassion. “But for the longest time, I thought you were dead too. I’m just glad to know you’re alright.” His tail rested gently on Slatefur’s shoulders. “We’ve all lost so much,” he continued, his mew thick with emotion. “It’s enough to be grateful for what we still have. And now I have one of my brothers back with me.”

Affection swelling in his chest, Slatefur leaned forward again, touching his nose to his littermate’s. “Go,” he whispered. “Do your duty as a medicine cat. I’m proud to be your kin.”

“And I couldn’t be happier being yours,” Puddleshine responded fiercely.

They stared at each other a moment longer, blue eyes meeting green, before Puddleshine whisked his tail and, dragging Tigerheart’s body with him, disappeared into the bushes.

Slatefur climbed back down the rocky slope to his Clanmates, settling down beside Cloverfoot and Blaze. His mind finally at rest after so long, the gray tom allowed himself to relax, grooming his pelt lazily as the cats around him shared tongues. 

 

 

A short while later, he caught the scent of more cats approaching. His ears pricked, he got to his paws as the others did the same, scrambling towards the next slope down the hill to spot the new arrivals.

His breath fell away as he gazed out at the large group of cats that were padding toward them. Their pelts were familiar, and underneath the strange scent of SkyClan that had been troubling him ever since they arrived back at the lake, they carried traces of ShadowClan scent. He spotted Scorchfur and Snowbird in the crowd, accompanied by three small kits. Nearby was Tawnypelt, her tortoiseshell pelt glimmering with faint light in the evening sun. In the lead was Whorlpaw, his eyes shining with pride and his gray-and-white pelt fluffed out as he bounded forward. Juniperclaw ran down the hill to greet his apprentice, giving him a proud lick on the shoulder.

“Great StarClan!” Berryheart exclaimed, gathering her kits to her with a sweep of her tail. “Whorlpaw, it looks as if you brought the whole Clan!”

Slatefur noticed even the elders Oakfur and Ratscar among the newly-arrived cats. “I think that’s exactly what he did,” he said, letting out an amused _mrrow_. “Whorlpaw, what did you _say_ to them?”

The apprentice gave his chest fur a few embarrassed licks. “I just told them what had happened. I said you were back with Tigerheart, and that Puddleshine was taking you to the Moonpool.”

“And all these cats came to see Tigerheart’s body?” Cinnamon asked incredulously.

Tawnypelt stepped forward, dipping her head to the city cat respectfully. “Not just for that. We came to greet our missing Clanmates.” Then she noticed Dovewing, and her pelt pricked slightly. “And the rest of you, of course.”

Cloverfoot let out a joyful yowl, springing forward to touch muzzles with Snowbird and Scorchfur. Her parents wove around her, their tails twined with affection, then turned towards Berryheart, beckoning for her to join them. With only the slightest hesitation, the black-and-white queen padded towards them, nuzzling her parents lovingly. Her kits followed, stopping curiously in front of the kits crouched near Snowbird.

“They have even more kin now,” Ant purred happily. Slatefur glanced quickly at him, surprised to see the city tom being so soft. Ant met his gaze, then shrugged, his tail twitching. “What? No cat could deny that’s heartwarming.”

Purring, Slatefur turned back to watch his Clanmates’ reunion. Then he noticed two more small kits had joined in with Snowbird’s and Berryheart’s. _Is there another queen in ShadowClan?_ he wondered. His gaze flitted around, trying to locate the kits’ mother. A small gasp escaped his mouth as he spotted a ginger she-cat trotting up to the kits, her yellow eyes glowing with love. _Yarrowleaf!_

Berryheart let out a happy shriek, darting towards her younger sister, her pelt pricked with joy. Cloverfoot followed, her gray tail waving joyfully in the air. The three she-cats pressed against each others’ cheeks, mewing softly to each other.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Slatefur heard Berryheart sob. “Dovewing told us you’d left with the rogues.”

Yarrowleaf’s mew was filled with regret. “I did. It was the greatest mistake I’ve ever made. I was having Nettle’s kits, and… and I thought he loved me.”

“Where is Nettle now?” Cloverfoot’s mew was sharp.

“Dead,” Yarrowleaf said. There was no sadness in her voice, only acceptance. “Our kits belong in a Clan, and I’m never going to forget that again.”

A thought occurred to Slatefur, jolting suddenly across his pelt. _Yarrowleaf was with the rogues. She might have…_ He took a tentative step towards the three cats, then stopped, wondering if he should intrude on their reunion.

But Yarrowleaf had already noticed his approach, and had turned towards him, an odd nervousness flickering in her eyes. “Slatefur,” she meowed, dipping her head. “There’s something you should know.”

Slatefur gazed at the ginger she-cat, his pelt pricking. _I was right._

“It’s about your father,” Yarrowleaf continued, her mew low. “Spikefur. He’s dead. He became ill while we were away from the Clans, and… I couldn’t save him.” Her eyes were dark, as if she was afraid that he would become angry with her.

For the briefest moment, Slatefur was taken aback. He had expected news of his father, but not of his death. But his pelt soon relaxed again. _Does it really make a difference?_ Whether Spikefur was alive or dead, Slatefur was never going to see him again.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said softly to Yarrowleaf. “I’m sorry you felt that his death was your fault.”

Her yellow eyes blinked slowly, and a hint of relief crept into her voice. “You’re not upset? Are you… _happy_ that he’s dead?”

“No,” Slatefur shook his head, realizing that was the truth. “I’m not happy, but I’m not sad, either. Spikefur and I parted ways long ago. We were never meant to be father and son.”

After a moment, Yarrowleaf nodded, her tail flicking. “Then I’m sorry it didn’t work out between the two of you.”

“So am I,” Slatefur said. “But I’m not sure it could have ever turned out any differently.”

 

  

Not much more time had passed when another small group of cats came trotting up the hill, their tails drooping from the long climb. In the lead were Strikestone and Grassheart, accompanied by a large gray tom with piercing yellow eyes.

“Who’s he?” Slatefur blurted out. “That’s no ShadowClan cat I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s Hawkwing, the SkyClan deputy,” meowed Snowbird beside him. “Leafstar sent Strikestone and Grassheart to the ThunderClan camp to fetch him.”

Slatefur watched as the tom—Hawkwing—weaved through the crowd of cats to greet a tabby she-cat sitting off to the side. Her fur was brown and cream, and her amber eyes glowed with wisdom, like that of a Clan leader. In all the excitement of reuniting with the ShadowClan cats, he hadn’t noticed her presence before.

“Yes, that’s Leafstar,” came Scorchfur’s sharp mew. “And the cat beside her is Frecklewish, SkyClan’s medicine cat.” He indicated a light brown tabby she-cat with his tail.

Slatefur turned to face them incredulously, his head filled with a confusing mess of nonsensical information. _Why are all of SkyClan’s important cats here? What was their deputy doing in ThunderClan’s camp?_ The strange scent assaulted his nose again. _And why do all of these cats smell like SkyClan?_

Snowbird and Scorchfur lowered their gazes, clearly not interested in clarifying further. Slatefur growled, his fur spiking. _Why has everyone been so secretive the entire time since we got here? What are they hiding?_

Then he noticed the two cats who had climbed up the hill after Hawkwing. One was a large, dark ginger tom, his tail tipped with a speck of white—ThunderClan’s medicine cat, Alderheart. The second was a black-and-white she-cat. With a start, Slatefur realized that it was Violetpaw, the mysterious orphaned kit that ShadowClan had taken in. She had been nursed by Pinenose alongside him and his littermates. But as he gazed at her wide, amber eyes, he realized that he hardly felt any affection for her. He didn’t dislike her, certainly—but she had never seemed like she truly belonged in ShadowClan, and she had never been eager to play with him and his littermates.

_Then again_ , Slatefur thought miserably, _We weren’t the most welcoming to her, either._

Alderheart spotted Dovewing and let out a surprised exclamation, rushing forward to greet his Clanmate. The pale gray she-cat touched noses with him, then began to introduce him to her kits one-by-one.

Meanwhile, Violetpaw had padded over to where Berryheart and Yarrowleaf lay with their kits, Cloverfoot and Sparrowtail sitting nearby. The black-and-white she-cat dipped her head, meowing to them politely, then turned to Leafstar, exchanging a few words with the SkyClan leader.

Startled, Slatefur whipped his muzzle back towards Snowbird. “Do Violetpaw and Leafstar know each other?”

The white ShadowClan queen looked briefly troubled. “Oh, that’s right. I had forgotten you didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Slatefur demanded impatiently.

Scorchfur raised his tail. “Violet _shine_ is a SkyClan cat. Hawkwing is her father. She joined SkyClan soon after Darktail’s rogues were defeated.”

Slatefur stared at the dark gray tom, shock rippling through his pelt. _So that’s what was special about her. The entire time, she was from SkyClan, and no cat knew it._ But as he gazed over at Violetshine where she sat speaking to Berryheart, he realized that he still hadn’t been told just _why_ the SkyClan cats were there at all.

_Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like the answer?_

 

 

Night had fully settled in, and the air was chill against Slatefur’s pelt. He fluffed his fur up, as around him many of the other cats huddled together for warmth. Gazing up at the stars, the gray tom sent a silent prayer to StarClan. _Whatever Puddleshine is doing, please, let him succeed._

Cloverfoot’s whisper rattled across the stones from where she and her kin were gathered, a short distance from where Slatefur sat. “Whatever happens, it will be good to go back to the ShadowClan camp. It never stopped being home, no matter what happened.”

Violetshine’s mew came in reply. “But ShadowClan doesn’t live there anymore. There were so few of them left, and they didn’t have a leader, so they joined SkyClan in their new camp.” Her voice was low and sorrowful.

Slatefur jerked as he heard the SkyClan warrior’s words. _No leader?_ He scanned the large group of cats gathered around them, his gaze widening in horror as he realized something that should have stood out to him long ago. _Rowanstar isn’t here! And no cat has mentioned his name since we arrived at the lake!_ Suddenly the SkyClan scent he’d noticed on his Clanmates and on the border markings made sense, as did their cautious manner and reluctance to explain the scent. _Stonewing, Juniperclaw, Puddleshine—they_ all _joined SkyClan! And the entire territory—it’s been drenched in SkyClan scent!_

Sparrowtail’s angry mew echoed his thoughts. “What do you mean? No leader? What happened to Rowanstar?”

“Rowanstar is dead,” Violetshine mewed cautiously. “But before he died, he… he gave his nine lives back to StarClan. He didn’t think he was worthy to be a leader because he had let Darktail destroy his Clan.”

A cold more fierce than the night wind crept through Slatefur’s pelt as the black-and-white she-cat spoke. _I knew Rowanstar had doubts, but I never imagined he would do something that drastic. Didn’t he realize he wasn’t just giving up hope for himself? He made that decision for_ all _of ShadowClan!_

But even as anguish over his former leader’s actions darkened the corners of Slatefur’s mind, another thought emerged, hesitant at first, then with greater certainty. _Perhaps Rowanstar felt he had no choice because of how many of us left. Tigerheart’s departure would have been too much for him to handle. But we’re back now, all of us. Rowanstar believed he was doing the only thing he could under his circumstances—but the circumstances have changed. No matter what happened before, we are a whole Clan again. We can decide for ourselves whether ShadowClan is finished or not._

“I didn’t know… that a leader could do that,” Berryheart rasped.

“No cat knew, until it happened,” Violetshine sighed. “And since then, StarClan hasn’t sent a sign to say which cat should be ShadowClan leader in Rowanclaw’s place.”

Again a wave of rejection swept through Slatefur’s thoughts. _Since when do we need StarClan to choose our leaders? StarClan gives their blessing of nine lives to the cat that the Clan feels is worthy to lead them._ He knew, deep within himself, that Violetshine was wrong. Whatever Rowanstar—Rowan _claw_ —had believed, whatever had fueled his surrender, there was still time to change things.

Cloverfoot spoke up again, her voice tinged with fear. “So all our Clanmates joined SkyClan?”

Even as his Clanmates huddled closer together, their expressions tragic, Slatefur saw a brighter reality in his mind, one more powerful and important than the despair in front of him right now. He remembered Berryheart’s comforting words as he had laid by the pond, her calm reassurance as he despaired over his littermates. He saw Cloverfoot, her meow not hollow and fearful, but strong and resonant as she addressed their patrol, clearly stating what she believed was the best course of action. He imagined the fire in Sparrowtail’s eyes as he stood protectively over his mate and kits, and he recalled Yarrowleaf’s affirmation from earlier that night: Her kits belonged in a Clan.

Most of all he remembered Rippletail’s low voice as the white tom had explained that he felt he could never rejoin ShadowClan, and the pain that had stabbed into his own heart as he had watched the former warrior walk away into the birch forest. But with it, Slatefur remembered his own words from that afternoon, only spoken a day ago even though it felt like moons had passed since then. _I owe it to their memory to never give up on ShadowClan._ Birchbark’s easy humor and Lioneye’s snappish attitude floated through his head, and he felt his littermates’ scents wreath around him.

The last face to enter his mind was Puddleshine’s. He pictured his brother the way he always seemed to be: Cheerful and understanding. Slatefur thought back to all the heartfelt moments they’d shared in just the last half-day since reuniting, and then farther back, to everything they’d had in ShadowClan together, before the rogues came. Suddenly he knew, with a conviction that ran from his tail-tip all the way to his muzzle, that those times weren’t over. They still had plenty of happy days ahead of them, as a warrior and a medicine cat. As brothers. Most of all, as ShadowClan cats, loyal to the end.

_Rippletail wasn’t wrong_ , Slatefur thought, wondering what the white tom would have said if he had been here. _He wouldn’t have been able to come back to ShadowClan, not when it’s fractured like this. But the rest of us made the right choice. Leader or no leader, without Rowanstar, without Rowanclaw, even without Tigerheart, we’ll carry on. We’ve come this far, surviving everything the rogues could do to us, and journeying for moons just to end up back where we started. And what we are hasn’t changed. We are ShadowClan cats, and that’s not something that can be taken away from us, not by a bunch of rogues and not by SkyClan._

As Violetshine dipped her head in confirmation of Cloverfoot’s words, Slatefur opened his jaws wide, yowling a challenge to the stars, loud enough for all of his Clanmates to hear.

“Fox dung to all that!” he exclaimed, certainty flowing through his pelt. “I don’t _want_ to be a SkyClan cat! I’ve always been ShadowClan, and I always will be.”

 

 

 

**Epilogue**

 

The moon hung low in the sky as the white tom padded down the hill, his paws aching. He’d lost track of time. Had it been one day since he left the others? Two? He honestly couldn’t remember.

He wasn’t hungry—he had easily been able to catch a few mice as he traveled—but there was an unbearable weariness gnawing at him, like another kind of hunger that couldn’t be satiated by eating. _Am I just tired?_ he wondered. _Why can’t I make this go away?_

Moonlight reflected off his eyes as he glanced up, realizing that he had arrived at the Twolegplace he had spotted from far off. Without any obvious ideas for where to head, he had chosen the cluster of Twoleg dens as a spot to aim for. As he had walked, the idea had formulated in his mind that he could ask a kittypet for advice on where to head next. Surely at least one of them would have some sense of the surrounding area.

He slunk past the first several dens. None of them had any cat scent around them. The next one smelled promising, though; there was a faint scent of a kittypet she-cat on its fence.

Pausing in front of the den, the white tom let out a short yowl, trying to catch the attention of any cats that might be living there. He waited for a short while, but none emerged. Opening his jaws wider this time, he tried again. “Hey! Hello? Is anyone there?”

From behind him, a voice mewed, “Oh, she doesn’t live there anymore. She stopped showing up a couple moons ago. I think she might be dead.”

The tom whipped around, raising his muzzle towards the speaker. On the fence behind him, adjoining a different Twoleg den, was crouched a fat ginger tabby tom. A Twoleg collar dangled around his neck, and his yellow eyes peered down lazily.

“Hi,” the kittypet meowed, his voice lacking any wariness. “My name’s Fuzzball. What’s yours?”

The white tom ignored the question. He had found someone to ask for help. “Do you know this area well? Could you help me figure out where to go?”

Fuzzball’s eyes lit up. “Oh, sure! I can show you Ajax’s house, and Velvet’s, and Coco’s…”

The tom let out a long sigh. _This kittypet is an idiot._ “I meant,” he said slowly, “Could you give me any advice about the area _outside_ the Twolegplace? Do you know where there might be areas rich in prey?”

Fuzzball seemed to not even hear him. “Hey,” he meowed, as if the white tom hadn’t spoken, “You look kinda tired. You should get some rest. Want to come into my house?” He looked eager at the prospect of sharing his nest with someone.

“No, I don’t want to go inside your ridiculous Twoleg den!” the white tom snapped.

“You want a place all to yourself?” the kittypet replied, seemingly untroubled by the insult. “You could use that one.” He nodded to the den that the white tom had been inspecting, the one whose kittypet had died.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the white tom realized that a night spent sheltered sounded like a wonderful idea. _Maybe I could spend one night in this kittypet nest. Just one._ “Would the Twolegs let me?” he asked, his tail twitching.

“Sure,” Fuzzball nodded. “I think they’ve been missing their old cat. If you stand outside their door and yowl a bit, they’d probably take you right in.”

The white tom looked cautiously at the entrance to the nest, then back at Fuzzball. He nodded briefly. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try that. Thanks.”

“No problem,” the ginger kittypet meowed, licking one of his front paws. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

The word _Rippletail_ floated through the tom’s mind for the briefest moment. Then he shook his head.

“I don’t have a name,” he meowed, glancing up at the Twoleg nest. “Not one that matters anymore.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Boy was I mad when River of Fire screwed up the continuity like that. You go and write an entire story about Slatefur specifically because he was the one guy who *wasn't* on Tigerheart's patrol, and what does the next book do? It retcons things so that he actually was on Tigerheart's patrol, and shunts Rippletail into being a kittypet instead. But, hey, when life gives you lemons, you think of it less as an error per se and more as a golden opportunity to write some juicy character-developing lemonade.
> 
> I'm definitely planning to wrap up Slatefur's journey with a third fic after The Raging Storm releases. There are a few ideas I have for it, but the majority of the plot will of course be dictated by The Raging Storm itself. I can't wait to see what it gives me to work with.
> 
> Chapter 1 is mostly lifted straight out of Tigerheart's Shadow, in case you forgot. A small part of chapter 2 is as well. The ending of chapter 5 is taken straight from River of Fire, and the last line Slatefur speaks is the only line he has in any main series book. Of course, the situation in which he says that line is extremely weird, since the book apparently wants us to believe that Tigerheart's patrol came back to the lake, met Puddleshine, went to the Moonpool, sat there for hours with freaking everyone in ShadowClan, and yet never bothered to ask why their territory smelled like SkyClan or where the hell Rowanstar was, until finally Violetprotagonistshine showed up to grace them with her wisdom. So I had to jump through quite a few hoops just to suspend the disbelief that all the characters could somehow manage to be unaware of this for so long. But I'm satisfied with how it turned out, overall.
> 
> No, it's not canon that Needletail had littermates who died, but... come on. You know it happened.
> 
> Tigerheart actually does stare straight at Rippletail when he dies in Tigerheart's Shadow. Your guess as to why is as good as mine, but here, let's turn that into a character moment for Rippletail, why not?
> 
> A few of the details surrounding Rippletail and Slatefur are not consistent with things stated in one book or another, such as Tigerheart's Shadow telling us that Rippletail helped to carry Tigerheart's body home. But, no duh, that's because the two books contradict each other *massively*, and not just with the Rippletail/Slatefur thing. They disagree on how long Tigerheart was gone from the lake (4 months vs 2.5 months), they disagree on whose idea it was to dunk him in the Moonpool (Puddleshine vs Dovewing), and in general it's a huge mess trying to reconcile the conflicting ideas they give us. Pretty much everything in this fic is a blend of the two versions, and as a result doesn't line up perfectly with either one.


End file.
